Rise and Fight
by ManofManyHats
Summary: The Avatar is late. And the world doesn't wait for him.
1. Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

**AN- This story might be difficult to wrap your head around at first; there's a lot of information but it's not served to you, more just slid in there and you have to make sense of it. If you don't like that, then the second chapter should clear things up so don't leave just yet.**

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"No work today, Lee." The man stands back, watching him as he leaned over the golden pond. "Not with the cargo passing through. It just… doesn't feel right, y'know?"

He just hums in reply, watching the turtleducks float past.

"Just- just… it's just something like this happens and… and the least we can do is _not_ act like everything's normal, right?"

"I'm your employee, Shen, you don't have anything to prove to me."

"It's just, everything's so _messed up,_ and I wanna say something about it!" His boss drops by him in the reeds. "My wife says I'll get arrested if I don't shut my mouth."

He snorts. "She'd be right, if we weren't so far south. The higher ups don't waste their time disciplining this place."

"And tomorrow that ship comes here, and who knows what they'll do to us. Lee… Lee I need your advice."

"What a wise decision."

"Stop foolin'. All these years and you've never let me down, 'cept when you wanted to. For the laughs."

"And you say I don't have a sense of humor."

"Lee, listen… I hate this. Hate it. Hate knowin' my taxes go up to those madmen. And it's been alright with us here, but-but what about the other places all up in flames, torn apart. All those children, and not just the children, everyone, can you imagine? I wanna do somethin'" He threw a stone into the water's face, and the turtleducks scattered. "I should'a joined the rebellion."

The waiter didn't grace him with a reply, instead throws bread crumbs for the birds.

"If the Prince just went a little more to the right during the Pole-to-Pole March, well, I wouldn't be feeling so worthless."

"You'd probably be dead. Just like he is."

"Still don't get why you're so…gloomy about 'im. I mean you fought for 'im, didn't cha?"

He turned away from the water. "What do you want me to say? You can wish all you want that you fought, but you didn't. And even if you did, what would it change? Your feeling of worth? The rebellion _failed,_ Shen _._ If you want to do something about it then go, don't sit here talking to me because I'll be sleeping in my house when the Avatar gets paraded down to his jail cell."

"Bah! Can't get through your thick skull at all!" He stands, too fast, and wobbles a bit. "Maybe… maybe I will do somethin'."

"Oh, what? Close the teashop because that's the 'least you could do'? Cry me a river."

"You keep that up, sir, and you'll be outta a job!" The waiter hums again, and casts more crumbs into the water.

The man sobered, knowing his employee wouldn't pay any heed to anger. "…Still don't know why you waste your bread on those birds. You need it more than they do."

He expected the cold shoulder he was given. "Y'know, if you cleaned up a bit, you'd probably be married by now. If you wanted to be more than a busboy you'd be able to do real nice."

"And if you wanted to do more than mope, you'd do pretty well yourself."

"I would, wouldn't I? Well, One-eye, maybe I'll try it." A ring of keys hits the waterbed besides the man. "Lock up the shop for me, will ya?"

You could see the young man freeze if only for a second.

"Thanks. Try not to stay out to late, don't wanna be caught out tonight, Lee. Have a good one." Shen walks off, footsteps echoing in the early air.

* * *

The shop's already locked, but he'd expected that. A walk down the streets reminded him why he had settled here of all places: nondescript, out of the way, and with seldom a Fire Nation patrol in the streets. And he'd never been here before, which meant no one could recognize him on sight.

As he walks through the front of his wedge of apartments, he calls out a greeting, knowing the children a floor under him would be hurrying to school now, or maybe the man with the wispy beard would be enjoying his early cup of jasmine in the lobby.

No one answers. It seemed everyone was following Shen's train of thought, because acting like everything's _not_ okay was enough to them. He considered it alike to a group of people watching from the stands as a woman gets robbed, shaking their heads and clicking their tongues in distaste, words like "I can't believe it" and "now that's just plain wrong" and of course, "someone oughta do something about this" but none of them stepping up and helping.

 _Well, you're not doing anything either._ His mind tells him. _What right do you have to say that?_

He smacks lips dryly, as he brews a handful of stale leaves into a manageable tea. He didn't know whether uncle would have been proud or mortified of his skill in creating a satisfactory drink out of week old tea leaves and tap water.

He contends his earlier thoughts. _At least_ _I'm not being hypocritical. I act like everything's normal because I'm not expecting anything to happen._

 _Coward._

On his way down the stairs, he sees one of the children poke her head out of a door. He waves at her, but the girl continues to act as if she were handling military grade information; scanning the halls, holding a hand to the side of her mouth and speaking in whispers. Loud whispers, but she _was_ still a child.

"Psst! Momma says we should all stay inside. She says the Fire Nation's coming." Her eyes sparkle, as if the idea thrilled her.

He scratches the back of his neck. He was never good with children, _social_ children made him perplexed. "Well… we are a Fire Nation colony. No big deal, right?"

"Humph. But they've got the _Avatar._ Haven't you heard the stories? I think the Avatar could kick all those soldiers' butts and then I could go to the North Pole see a polar bear-dog!"

"A polar bear-dog?" He remembered those as being bothersome, shedding _everywhere._

"Yeah! I want one! But first the Avatar needs to beat up the Fire Nation… Mr. Lee, why doesn't the Avatar just use his bending and escape?"

His tea was getting cold. "I don't know, miss. Maybe he's tied up."

"But if he wasn't then he could use his bending, right?"

"Right."

She think about this, the deep inquiry visually present on her face. "Mr. Lee could you go and untie the Avatar so I can get my polar bear-dog?"

He raises an eyebrow at her request and unwittingly reels back. "…Maybe it's time for you to go back inside."

"Will you?"

"It's not that simple. Now what did your mother tell you?" He felt like one of the salty old men who would yell at kids to get off their lawn.

"…We should all stay inside."

"Right, now listen to her."

"Yes, sir." She closes the door reluctantly. He continues down the stairs and drags a chair out onto the porch.

 _Hypocrite. No, I'm not a hypocrite, just a coward._

His attempts at people-watching fail. There weren't many people to watch; just a few who were late to the party, surprised when they saw the majority of the stores closed, traders with their ostrich-horses padding through desolate streets, and an old man setting up his cart. Seeing that his wares consisted of mostly festival items, he didn't make much of a profit. He buys a fan decorated with craneflies from him.

 _I have as much obligation to save anyone as that man over there._

He fans away the midday heat, lazily. _And from the looks of it he doesn't have anything weighing his conscience. I've already done my part, I failed, but I did my part. I'm no hero. I'm happy here and I'm not throwing away my life again._

He slants his broad brimmed hat to cover his face, as a traveler strode onto the path.

 _The Avatar never came to save me, why should I save him?_

Eventually he falls into dreams, assuring himself the faster this day goes the better. But dreams were no reprieve today. It's the same one he had years ago, the dream recreating the memory from even more years back, when he was just a child. When he wakes up, he almost expects the village to be up in flames again.

He's running on instinct, emotion, with reason left on his lonely porch. He buy a blue and white theater mask from the cart and leaves his savings at the blacksmith's to make up for the swords he would find missing tomorrow.

 _You're no hero. But the people need one._ The voices from his dream rumble in his mind, his own sounding unforgivably weak. It fuels him with anger, but there's still that biting doubt that he's throwing away his last chance of a peaceful life. And what if it failed, again?

 _Then you die trying._

The sight of the iron steamer against the red horizon is both familiar, and completely out of place.

He finds the dagger in his room, under the burned and torn red robes he had stuffed into the closet that he hadn't had the heart to get rid of. He packs them into a bag as well.

 _The Avatar's late, years late. But what can we do about that now?_

He slips into the dark garb, and waits until the sky matches. He swings his legs across the balcony railing.

 _I'll do what I can._

Letting go of his hold, the space between his feet and the faithful, dusty road lessens. Zuko hits the ground running.

* * *

There's the big buffoon. Spirits, why'd he stand there? You could see his shadow around the corner. He drops down and Shen almost gives away their position and nearly socks his head with a metal pole.

" _Lee?"_ It's muffled by the hand covering his mouth.

"Quiet." He could almost hear the frantic beating of the man's heart.

"Lee." The words are part disbelief, part fear and layered in uncontained relief. He takes the steel pipe away from his hands and grips his shoulders.

"Go home, boss. Your kid was getting worried." The shuffling of the ship's crew sounded in the distance; of wagon wheels and men's rumbling voices and shackles clattering. He passes the keys back into the man's broad hands. "Go home."

Shen can only stand in awe, then the noise loudens. He takes his hands firmly, and smiles.

"All these years," the tenderness in his eyes remind him of uncle, almost, "And you've still never let me down."


	2. Add Insult to Injury

Aang didn't know what he had been expecting when he reached the North Pole, but what he got was more than he had hoped for. That wasn't very hard to top though. He barely believed he would make it.

Chief Arnook, from his icy ledge over the council, rubs over his eyes. He raises a gnarled hand and the current speaker lets his words drop.

"Enough." The two men look equally tired when they meet eyes. "We have discussed this many times before. We will not waste the Avatar's time, or in fact, the _council's_ time with these foolhardy plans."

The advisor sighs and his breath wisps from his mouth like dragon's smoke for all to see.

"They are not foolhardy. I'm only looking into the future, once the kid's trained enough." Aang hunched a bit at his mention. "And unless you plan on stashing him here for the rest of his life, I don't understand why you're so against me." He folds his arms and sticks his chin up.

"This tribe has no intention of attacking anyone without provocation, regardless of any personal vendetta you have against them." The chief's voice drones, like he's repeated this line more than once.

"You're calling my wish of liberating the Earth Kingdom, and _us,_ may I add, from the Fire Nation, a personal vendetta?" The man tips his head back and lets another sigh free. "Look, chief, we've been playing this for years now; but the Avatar is at our doorstep. In fact, he's right there, Arnook." A finger meets his gaze.

"I'm well aware of that."

The councilman shakes his head and continues. "Yes, he needs training. Do I think we go banging on the Fire Nation's door right now? Of course not. But I have no doubt that we cannot win this war without a fight. And all of you might as well get rid of that delusion right now."

Aang feels the unease in the room peak, he can't pinpoint why, but the wringing of hands and the overhead mumble and the turning of eyes to the floor tell him as much. He's not the only one who picks it up.

"Yes, I know it may seem a bit… beyond our reach right now. But you all remember how close we came before. How strong we were. Just remember how far we went under the banner of the Fire Prince!"

The crowd mumbles more as the man's voice fills with energy. "He united us and had the place painted green and gold before the Fire Nation knew what hit them! We can do it again!"

"You may fail to remember." Bitterness cracks at the edges of the chief's voice.

"But the Fire Prince is _dead._ "

Their voices become background noise.

Since being broken free, Aang's world had become guided by a number of words muttered by a nameless man in a blue mask. Some became active shapers of his decisions, like _go to the north, find a waterbender to teach you._ Some meant nothing to him, but every word spoken that night had become engraved into his mind.

Etched in a rasping murmur: _the Fire Prince is alive, the Fire Prince is alive._

The advisor has taken his seat again, eyes staring despondently at the floor, head shaking discreetly back and forth.

"…stop romanticizing the rebellions and see them as they were; rash, uncalled for violence that led to failure." Arnook stands. "If nothing else, we should learn from them. Council dismissed. And remember that we have festivities in honor of the Avatar's arrival later this evening."

The chief turns to face him and gives him a smile that he's sure is meant to be reassuring but only causes the air in the room to drop further. Aang swallows down his words and nods.

He waits until the crowd leaves. The advisor stays, tapping a worn boomerang on the tabletop.

He tells him the Fire Prince is alive. It may not have been the right time, the right place and he might not have even said it in the right way but Aang cared little for that.

The man sneers. "And who told you that?"

He tells him, the man in the blue mask.

The advisor's youthful facade ages as his face slackens, his eyes lose their focus and his mouth lilts into a frown.

When he turns back to face him, Aang has seen this look once before; it says _you have failed me, I have no faith in you and I can barely tolerate your presence._

"Keep your mouth shut and go train."

It's what he'd been expecting from these people, but Aang still finds a knot wrapping around his throat. He swallows it down and leaves.

He was making quite a name for himself, as an aloof deity who strides through the streets with a scowl, air whipping like vines around him and who runs to the side of his pet bison in the face of pressure.

Sinking into the gnarls of Appa's fur, he couldn't bring himself to be worried.

"What am I doing, Appa?" He can feel the bison's chest sink as he roared. "Where did everything go so wrong?"

He strokes the blackened edge of fur, where a fireball had hit dead on, weeks ago. The ship that had split the iceberg was wedged in front of them, he remembers, and the red and black stuck out like a sore thumb. Then he'd introduced himself, which he's now learned can only lead to trouble, then he'd tried to run and the air underneath him started go glow.

That was the moment he figured out he was in a deeper mess than he thought; plummeting towards earth with Appa's wailing flooding his ears and the taste of ash on his tongue.

The next days were hazy with fear. Then a night at port. Then weeks hazy with fear interlaced with guilt. Then he was here.

He finds another sear on Appa's back and layers a handful of ice on it. "I'm sorry I got you into this mess."

Mess. A hundred year war was a little bit more than a mess.

He rubs his numbed hands together. "They must hate me. They won't say it, but they have all the right to." He doubts that he'd be able to handle it if they did voice it. "And they're even having a dinner for me, like I'm a hero. But I'm not, Appa, but they think so and I don't know if I can be who they want me to be."

The bison shook, effectively shooing Aang to the side. "What?" He nudges him more gently. He sees a speck of blue making its way out of the city walls towards the ice field where they sat. Aang stood. "I guess the least I could do is show up."

He meets her halfway; a young lady with hair brought back in loops and a smiling face but with eyebrows that creased and betrayed her worry.

"There you are, Avatar… uh, Aang. It's just the festival's about to start and I didn't want you to be late so…"

He tries to keep the mood light. "I wouldn't be late to my own party."

She smiles, "That's great. Come on I'll show you the way."

They walk side by side and Aang soon realizes he didn't really need the escort; everyone was making their way in the same direction.

"I know how easy it is to get lost in here. I remember when I first came, I kept thinking that all the ice looked the same."

"You're not from here?"

She shook her head. "I'm from the Southern Water Tribe. We ended up here after the rebellions. There wasn't much left back at home."

And whose fault had that been.

"I'm sorry."

"What for? There wasn't much you could do." She gives a nonchalant roll of her shoulders.

"But this is my fault. I'm probably the worst Avatar in history."

"Don't say that. I don't blame you for what happened to my home."

"Not just your home. Everything, this war – it's all my fault."

"No one blames you for that."

"Maybe not you…"

She scowled and sounded a little peeved, but not at him. "Who said it? Was it my brother? I saw you talking to him after the meeting, the idiot, why would he even say that? Oh, he'll hear about this later."

"No, it wasn't him. He never said anything."

"But he meant it right?"

"No! At least I don't think so? Can we change the topic?" He had no wish to get even deeper on that man's bad side.

She huffed. "Fine. But no more of this talk, okay." She shook her head with a little smile dancing on her lips. "Ever since I was a little girl, I'd imagine that the Avatar would save the world. He always gave me hope. Now I guess it's my turn."

"I don't know if I can be the Avatar you imagined."

"You can and you will. I'll be helping you." They were at the doorstep of the main square, where banners and music filled the air. The reality of the world outside hadn't penetrated the walls of the North Pole so everyone was full of cheer. The woman waved at him to join.

She smiled. "I haven't introduced myself yet. I'm Katara and I'll be your waterbending teacher. If you'll accept me that is, Avatar."

The world outside is a haze when he steps into the square. "Of course I accept. And Aang is fine."

"Aah, there is our honored guest." Chief Arnook appears from behind. "Welcome. Pull out a chair, I'd like to make a toast to you, if you'd allow."

"I don't think I really deserve the recognition. I haven't even done anything."

"Nonsense. You've made it here haven't you? And it isn't just to celebrate what you've done, it's to celebrate what's to come."

"Okay…"

"I'll be off then. Avatar Aang, Master Katara."

"See Aang." She said once they'd taken their seats. "It doesn't matter what's happened, it's just moving forward from here."

"Yeah, okay." The deep roar of a drum rattles the air and Arnook begins his toast. It's full of praises and dreams of the future which the audience applauds . They call him a hero and he almost believes it.

The North is isolated in its bubble of safety; in here he is always the hero because he has never failed them. He knows enough about the rest of the world to not let the applause get to him. And of course, it's all etched in a rasping murmur.

* * *

Pins pricked up and down his spine, cold, like thousands of unwanted hands. The wind had a warm lilt to it. Quiet roamed the night harbor. He shivered and wound his arms around himself, tightly.

It's odd how he remembered it all, every footfall, every ring of metal on metal, every word whispered.

There were men in red and black armor scattered around him. His captors. They looked almost peaceful, laying there, motionless, like they were taking a well-deserved rest after a day of protecting their nation.

Aang shivered some more. _Just out cold,_ he tells himself, _they're just out cold._

The man in front of him doesn't spend a second to study his handiwork, instead sheaths his dao with not a hint of emotion.

Black suit, blue mask, a voice that seemed only to speak in whispers yet sound in roars, a knife that stayed untouched at its sheath and a burlap bag draped over a shoulder is what he remembers of his rescuer.

Then the mask is taken off. He can't remember everything, he doesn't know if his mouth had been in a frown or a sneer, arms crossed or clenched at his side, his bad eye closed or squinting, but he knows the words his face spoke before his mouth had ever opened.

 _Failure. You disgust me._

Aang held himself tighter.

"You're late, Avatar."

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 **AN:**

 **It's not just Aang who's late. I'm sorry.**

 **This stems from the fact that I was in turbulence over how I wanted to write this: short, sweet, not one word more than needed or long and adventury or mysterious and riveting. Frankly, I'm still not sure. Then there was the problem that the first chapter might not fit this new form and it stressed me a bit. Also, this story is definitely going to be more than the 5 chapters I said before.**

 **I know it's hard to make sense of, so here are some facts that you can find in the chapter if you read it a couple of times over. But this is fanfiction, who does that?**

 **-Aang was recently cracked out of his iceberg due to a Fire Nation ship crashing into it. He's captured then rescued by the guy in the blue mask. The guy tells him to go north, which he does.**

 **\- Sokka was the advisor at the start. He and Katara are older than they were in the show.**

 **-The rebellions didn't go well, Sokka and Katara were a part of them.**

 **Hopefully, I'll update faster this time. I really hope you stick along with this story because it's quite an adventure to write and hopefully read as well. Also, as more facts are uncovered, reading past chapters become more fun as you can say 'hey, I got that reference!'**


	3. Burning Bridges

Omashu was a fast city. Wait, sorry, _New Ozai_ was a fast city. It was like everyone picked up the speed of the trade chutes that crisscrossed the streets. That was a bad thing for him, from now till midnight he wouldn't find much business

He sat cross-legged on his tarp, tsungi horn lying beside him, in the calmer streets of the city.

Back maybe a decade ago, when he was nothing but a fool with a ponytail, he would never have imagined himself stooping to the level of a common beggar. He'd never have imagined himself as a leader against the Fire Nation or an ally of the Avatar, either.

"But that is the way of destiny," he remembers uncle saying, "You will never know where it will take you."

He snorted at the memory. Well, it was a good thing destiny had foretold him to master the tsungi horn when he was younger, because right now it was the only thing between him and outright stealing to survive.

He brought the brim of his hat a little lower and hoped no one would question it. The horn's eerie melody pierced the air. It wasn't loud, but it filled his ears.

Truth be told, he liked these nights. They reminded him of his mother, who had been the one to start his abrupt music career. She'd asked and he hated disappointing her. They reminded him of long nights under the stars, when they'd been bringing freedom across the Earth Kingdom.

They'd laughed at him when they learned he could play, good-naturedly of course, just because they'd never have thought him patient enough to learn. Days later, he found a polished horn atop his bag and a number of guilty faces nudging him to play something. And he did, that night and every night after it.

"To scare off the animals," they'd said, but they all knew it was just for the comfort. They could forget about the war and sleep easy.

He wasn't using the same horn right now. No, that one was with the Firelord.

These nights reminded him of the times he'd work late at the restaurant and play a tune for the sweethearts that took for a midnight stroll. Shen and his wife would drag themselves outside and steal the first dance.

A copper is thrown his way. He tips his hat and changes the song. He chooses a happier one, played at weddings in the Southern Water Tribe, actually. He'd heard the Water Tribe siblings hum it occasionally and played it for them one night.

"We've never actually seen a wedding," they'd said, "But they taught us the songs so we could carry on the tradition." The two had looked at each other. They knew how crucial their knowledge of tradition had become if they ever hoped to rebuild their home.

By the end of the song, he has another copper and one spectator. He hears someone shout at him to go get a real job. It's a slow start, but he had expected as much. The next song he'd learned for his mother and the memory of her arms around him always brought out a smile. His one spectator loses interest and leaves nothing in his place.

He changes tack in hopes of making enough for a warm meal. It's an Earth Kingdom tune that the soldiers would belt out on the march. He'd played it one night as well and Toph had said she didn't like it.

"It's a marching song, Sparky. You're not meant to tone it down like that." Either way, she seemed to like it and so did the people tonight.

He looks up at the sky and thinks of the times he'd stare up at that same moon, nights on a lonely cruiser at sea and in nameless villages. He'd stare at it from a sleeping bag, huddled near the fire on nights with pride at his chest, a title to his name and allies all around. And of course, nights on a little third-story apartment balcony, sipping tea and watching the street lanterns being lit.

He looks back down and sees that profit was still scant, but he had prepared to go cold. At least there was enough to feed the ostrich-horse. He gathers the tarp, hears the light clink of the coins at the bottom of his bag, and stands. He walks with an aura of royalty which no one could pin to the common beggar.

* * *

Omashu was once the heart of a rebellion. That was something a city would never forget, no matter how many banners they flew or soldiers they stationed. No matter what name it held, Omashu was his.

At least, that had been his hope when he'd decided to travel here. There had to be someone, something that had made it through, some sign that this rebellion was still alive. And he finds it, not in what he can see but what he cannot.

The guards are much too scare, and the few he does see are lax and wear their uniform without pride or power. He can't find the red and black emblem of the Fire Nation except in the most public places. There are no angry protesters in front of the governor's house, and he comes to learn that there are no bodyguards on his balcony either.

The man takes in a shrill breath of air when he comes face to face with the blue masked vigilante hanging leisurely from his balcony railing.

"Evening governor." He says as he swings his legs onto the veranda, calmly making his way behind the spellbound man.

"You… the Blue Spirit." Zuko keeps one hand on the door. "You – you freed the Avatar."

"No need to fear. I just need some information." This wasn't what he needed. The man was too scared. Was it the mask? The voice? Or had he mistaken which side he was on; did the man simply see him as an enemy?

"What do you need?" Compliant, but still frozen.

"How you answer this question will determine that." Too threatening, but it was too late to take the words back. It came with the mask, the silence of the night and a crafty tongue.

"Whose side are you on?"

A bead of sweat marks its path on the official's forehead. "Not the Fire Nation's."

He gives a little sigh and the man jumps a little. It's not the answer he wanted, but for right now though?

"That's good enough for me."

* * *

Governor Shino is a quiet, crafty man who has come to enjoy the values of his citizens and disfavor the powers above him. He knows nothing of a rebellion, has no desire to intervene in world politics and bends the numbers he sends to the capital only for his own convenience. He is not someone he wishes as an ally, but needs, nonetheless.

He needs a pipeline to the world he had detached from. He is not the most effective, nor the most trustworthy, but Governor Shino is enough.

There is no word of an insurgency but there are disruptions of trade in the Si Wong desert. He scans through pages of war prisoners and public executions, his hands tremble because he knows these names, but hers is nowhere to be seen.

He goes to Gaoling because that is the one place he knows the earthbender would go, the first place she would liberate and the one place she would have any reason to visit.

At least, that had been his hope when he'd decided to travel here.

And he waits, until the day she rises from the tunnelways they had mapped on the years of the Pole march.

She's taller and her presence is less haughty than what he remembers of the girl who found herself at home amongst the ranks of burly men, who kicked her feet up on meeting tables, and who had been detested when she had been given the job of holding fort in the Earth Kingdom. She would have rather bust Fire Nation heads with them.

"So… is Gaoling ours, too? Or are you just visiting?" He's not surprised when he finds himself encased in a coat of stone. He is surprised by the silence of it. The earthbender he knew would never have given one thought on learning the art of stealth, but he figures that it was a skill that had become necessary.

She shuffles her feet in the dirt a bit more but doesn't turn to face him.

"That you, Sparky?" A stray thought dashes across his mind, saying that maybe this wasn't who he thinks it is, because the Toph he knew would never speak in a voice so vulnerable. Almost fearful.

"Yeah. It's me."

She turns a 180 and so does her timbre. She stares at nothing, yet her eyes pierce and he's sure she can feel his heart rate spike. This was no foolhardy soldier in it for the rush of battle; this was a weathered commander whose every move was for a battered cause.

"Back from the dead are we?" She says it as cold and detached as an old officer ringing off a list of casualties. "You know, when I first heard that there was a psycho is a blue mask running around up here, I didn't pin it on. I thought it was just some fool trying to be a hero by riding on your coattails."

The stone tightens enough to restrict his breathing. If she so wished, she could easily crush his ribs and be on her merry way. What a way to die.

"I told myself it wasn't you. I respected you. I told myself it wasn't you because the Zuko I knew wouldn't have left us for dead unless he was under the dirt as well."

"I wasn't who I thought I was," a gasp for air, "I guess I tricked you, too."

From the exasperated laugh she gives him, that's not a good enough answer.

"Why'd you leave us?"

"I think the better question would be _why did I come back?_ I still haven't found an answer for that one."

Toph shakes her head. "You disappear for three years and all you come back with is a stupid sense of humor. This isn't a joke. We could've won this war by now if you had just gotten your self-righteous ass off the ground and said, 'Hey, I'm alive'."

"It wouldn't have worked."

"It wouldn't have worked? That's your defense for not even trying?"

"It wouldn't have worked. It wasn't my place, I knew the day I started fighting that it wasn't my place! I kept fighting because of the anger, I don't know why I kept going, but I knew from the start it wasn't my destiny."

"Destiny! You're not going to admit you're a coward, or even blame it on real reasons, but you're blaming it on destiny. How pathetic are you."

The stone vise around him drops like snow on a spring rooftop.

"You're not worth my time."

Sinking on his knees, precious air filling his chest, Zuko almost shouts for her to just go, that he never needed her anyway. That's what he would have said, not half a year ago, but he bites his tongue.

"Toph, you can still win this. The Avatar, he needs a teacher."

"And what makes you so sure this time will work out any different than last time?"

"It will, it's his destiny."

"I didn't think there was anyone more desperate than I was at this point. You proved me wrong. Destiny has no place in this war."

"It'll work. When the armies go north, Toph, the ghost town. We'll be at the ghost town."

She turns heel and the earth opens before her like the maw of a demon and he knows once she drops into that abyss that he's lost her, lost the army that walks behind her, and lost any chance of ever finishing this godforsaken battle.

He scrambles to her side like the desperate man he is and grabs hold of her crudely steel-clad arm. "He needs a teacher. When the armies come, go to the ghost town."

She turns to him and stares for an incalculable eternity. She looks almost sad.

"You are not my general. I don't take orders from you anymore."

She gently loosens her arm and enters the crevasse, which shudders closed leaving him with nothing to affirm that the meeting had taken place at all.

And for the rest of the night, he plays an old marching song that a friend had never liked and wishes it could always be so simple.

* * *

 **.**

 **.**

 **.**

 **AN: It is stated in an Avatar Extra somewhere that Zuko is gifted in the tsungi horn. So that wasn't me just randomly wanting to see Zuko busking on the streets for no reason. OK, maybe a little. A couple of people took up my call of needing a writing buddy, thanks to Tragic Songbird of Eddis for picking up a lot of little mistakes on my stories. Special tip of the hat to WriterGirl7673 who proofread this chapter, very quickly and very late at night if I have my timezones correct. I was much more confident of this chapter thanks to all the help.**

 **So, this chapter. A little look at the past and setting the ground for the future. Next, I'll likely turn the mic back to the North Pole. I sincerely hope I can get it done for next week, but if I don't do not fear. I now have people who will make sure I don't fall into a months long hiatus.**


	4. Down Memory Lane

"Hold it… hold it… now!" The bubble of water in his control suddenly morphed into an icy spike which threw itself into the barren plains. His sifu smiled. "If you keep this up I'll run out of things to teach you in another year."

She melted another pile of snow and performed the move again. "But remember that you can also split the water like this, so you get a lot of little spikes instead of just one."

"Right. So like this?" A flurry of picks impaled themselves in the snow.

"Perfect. Now I think you're ready for this next move; I made it up when I was stuck in prison."

"Sounds interesting."

"What, the move or me in prison?"

"Both, I guess."

"Well, I was stuck there with one of my friends, she was an earthbender, and there wasn't any water nearby. But I figured that there must be some in the air so I just took it out, like this –" a puddle of water appeared in her palm, seemingly from nowhere, "and the cell was wood so I just sliced through it."

"Cool. Let me try!" He did, calling moisture from the surroundings, but as he was dealing with air, muscle memory kicked in and Aang ended up with a roar of wind to his face.

"Pretty good for a first try," Aang picked himself up from the self-inflicted blow, and Katara stifled her laughter, "Let's take a break."

"Yes, please!" They walked side-by-side towards the city, as a light wind chased their backs.

"It's going to be warm summer. That breeze is from the south-west, from the Fire Nation."

"You can tell? I didn't know that, and _I'm_ meant to be the wind master here."

"Well, I do have a few more years over you, Aang."

"Well, technically _I'm_ like 100 years older than you."

"Shut up," she bumped him playfully, "That doesn't count. And I can't imagine you my senior."

Another breath of air hit them, this time warmer. "Definitely a good summer," Katara said as they cherished the moment, "Haven't felt that since I left the south."

Caught up in the warmth, Aang tried to fill the conversation. "What was it like?" The cold dropped again and he regretted it immediately. "Wait, no, never mind! You don't need to answer that, it's private and I don't need to know and-"

"Aang, maybe let me speak first?" He shut his mouth and Katara took note of his ridiculously blanched face. "I'll tell you."

He looked a little more scared. "No, I didn't mean it, I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

"Listen up, Aang, you've been here for months now; I think it's time we get down to the facts. You've seen how the Earth Kingdom is firsthand, but I don't think anyone's told you anything about the rebellions."

"It's not exactly a nice thing to talk about…"

"You need to learn from it. And you need to realize that what happened had to happen."

"I don't think it _had_ to happen. I mean, if I just didn't-"

"Shh. I've heard it enough. Let's start somewhere nice, for both our sakes…"

* * *

"The Southern Water Tribe, 105 A.G, Fifth year of the Phoenix. I'd just turned 19."

...

 _The ships were gray steel, they coughed ash into the air and their bows curved like the teeth of a saber-toothed wolf. She hadn't recognized the flags they flew. They were gold and black and green and the sun shone in the middle, angry and glinting._

 _Sokka grabbed at her, told her to get back, face paling under the war paint he's wore, as his fantasies of protecting his tribe came to life and he's staring death in the face. She shook him off, and they stood together, awaiting their match. She grabbed at him, and not to pull him back._

 _The waves lapped over the shore as the first ship made a port for itself, carving the ice with a roar. The second banked so close to them she had been sure it would hit. She had been too proud to move out its path, either way._

 _A voice shook the air, a warning she thought but was too deaf to hear, and its owner peered over them. He climbed down the chain, and landed on the ice like blood on a wedding gown. Crimson robes and golden eyes, angry scars burned over them, skin pale and swords strapped on his back; this was the enemy, personified._

 _He walked up to them, stood straight with a smile, brought two hands to his chest, and bowed._

 _..._

"Sokka looked ready to whack him over the head. I was a little too shocked to do anything."

"Really?"

"Yeah, Sokka going into battle without thinking; hard to believe."

"He's not that bad."

"Oh, I give him credit. He's changed a lot from then. We all have."

...

 _She pulled her brother back as he started to raise his club. The man held his hands in surrender._

 _"I'm a friend."_

 _"Like I'd believe that – let me go, Katara – every inch of you is Fire Nation!"_

 _"Katara?" He reached underneath his robes and brought before them a scroll, sealed with a stamp she knows. "Your father is an ally of ours. This is from him."_

 _They freeze, and they stare at the messenger who looked increasingly awkward as the seconds drop. They hadn't heard from the rest of their tribe in years. Scratch that, they hadn't heard word from the rest of the world since the last Fire Nation raid. So eventually, she reaches out and takes it, bringing Sokka's weapon down first._

 _"Is it from dad?" He asks it to the air._

 _The man furrows his eyebrows for a moment. "Yes, that is from Chief Hakoda. And that means you're Sokka, then?"_

 _His attempt at acquaintanceship is shot down by cold eyes._

 _"What do you want? And who do you think you are, crashing into my village and then trying to make friends?"_

 _..._

"Sokka's harsh."

"He's not one to trust easily."

"What was in the letter?"

"I don't even remember, everything was so surreal. I just remember that I was disappointed; he hadn't said a lot. I felt ignored. It was childish, and I got angry with him for months."

"But you made peace with him right?"

"I did, but I wasted so much time… I could've done so much more."

"…Your dad, he didn't…"

"War isn't a gentle thing, Aang."

...

 _"Hakoda and I, we thought it was time to reconnect with his home. For information, for warriors as I see you two are, and for your own safety." He takes some time to scan over the remains of their village. "The Fire Nation's been more active in this area as of late."_

 _"You're telling us to move? Again, who do you think you are?"_

 _The man's temper was reaching its end. "A leader of a rebellion, I think, who's just here trying to help you. It would be nice if we could have some intelligent discussion here."_

 _"Are you saying I'm not intelligent?"_

 _"You haven't shown me anything."_

 _"Hey!" She'd gone into this fight thinking she'd be flaunting her waterbending strikes and fighting techniques, but no, it was the peacemaking skills she used on the 10 year olds that needed to be shown. "You're both grown men, pull it together."_

 _"I am together, it's this guy who doesn't know his place!"_

 _"No, you're right, we're being foolish." He bows again. "Apologizes, but time is of the essence. I know this is abrupt, but I fear that the longer I'm away from my generals the more footholds we lose. And I'm sorry to say, but I think we have the Fire Nation on our tail."_

 _"You're being chased! How could – why – that's – ugh." Sokka groans into his hands and sinks to sit on the ice. "I can't believe you."_

 _"I'm sorry." He sounded sincere._

 _"'I'm sorry'," he mocks, "So seeing that they're chasing you, I'm guessing you're not one of them."_

 _"One of them? If you mean Fire Nation, yes, yes I am. I was a prince in fact," he follows up quickly when she steps back and Sokka starts to rise, "I was exiled! I lead the rebels now! The rebels against the Fire Nation!"_

 _..._

"Zuko never did know how to keep a conversation smooth."

"Zuko, he's…"

"The Fire Prince, at least that was his 'stage name' I guess. He was a figurehead to rally behind, but he and Sokka could strategize themselves out of anything."

"The Fire Prince…"

"Yeah, he could stir a crowd like no other. I guess it was part of the reason everything fell apart after…"

"He's…"

"He didn't make it. After he – after he _died_ , it all ended…I don't know. It's just that he was so…he was unstoppable. I couldn't believe it."

"You couldn't believe it."

"I-I sometimes think how it could've gone if he… No, no, it doesn't matter. Let his soul rest. We… we'll finish this for him."

"…Right."

...

 _She's on a ship of metal that's never meant anything to her other than danger, staring out into the white sheet that had been her entire world. It's only noon._

 _She'd been listening to story after ridiculous story, of Fire Nation domination and insurgencies and alliances that make no sense to her. Yesterday, reality had extended little more than over the snowpack behind the watchtower. Sokka stays inside, hearing more than she could stomach, and tapping the coils and pipes that kept them from sinking to the bottom of the sea._

 _She'd left the briefing, checking up on her tribe and meeting the ship's skeleton crew. There's a cook and an engineer, a captain and a dozen others, and strangely, a teenager who she first meets when she slams her bare feet across the deck to the railing, leans over the metal and heaves up whatever her lunch was._

 _"I should never have gone on this goddamn ship." Is her only answer when asked anything. Katara's still on the deck when she comes back after dinner._

 _She stays there, hour after hour, staring at an empty ocean until the wind is so warm it's like she's under Gran Gran's best blanket, the one with ox's fur that she only gives to the sick. She tries to make it memorable, like she'd imagine; the scene where she glances back with a goodbye as the white edge fades away, then turns to face a new world with nothing but determination in her heart. It's not like that. It's full of gears clicking and motors whirring, of worried breaths below deck and hearty laughter, of warm breezes and cold fingers._

 _So she stares, and stares, and it never feels any more real_

* * *

"It still doesn't," she swipes underneath her eyes, "but maybe that's a good thing… I think that's enough for now."

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't be. You need to focus ahead, okay Aang? If you're so determined to take the blame for all that's happened, take what you learn and move forward. That's the only way you'll ever be forgiven." She grasps one of his shoulders, and his eyes jump back and forth to her and the ground. "But for the record, we don't blame you in the first place."

Arms reach around him, holding fast, the wind sweeping past like an embrace. He wants to tell her, tell her that he's no hero and the Fire Prince is alive, but he won't because it won't help, and he's already been told once to keep his mouth shut and go train.

So he stares, and stares, and wishes it felt less real.

* * *

 _._

 _._

 _._

 _AN: So… how 'bout those new chapter titles?_

 _Okay, I won't beat around the bush, I know I'm late. Again. Sorry. Again. Thank you to WriterGirl7673 for betaing this. Again. But seriously, thank her, or you'd be seeing incoherent tense changes all over the place._

 _So, mandatory checkup: how you guys doing? Any suggestions, thoughts, questions? Anyone have any news to share, exams soon, maybe, a new pet? I for one, have adopted a couple of plot bunnies…_

 _So will next chapter be on time, you ask? I cannot make promises, but I can still wish._


	5. Sitting (Turtle)ducks

Sokka storms through the doors with his boomerang clutched in his hand.

"Come on, it's time for training." He waves a hand at the way he came.

"It is?" Aang stuttered over his lunch.

"Yes, it is. Come on." He's out in a flash of blue before Aang has a chance to stand.

"Wait up!" He bursts outside, head whipping back and forth before setting sight on Sokka, already about to make the bend out of his sight. "Wait for me!"

He doesn't let up his pace and Aang jogs to make it besides him. Aang takes a quick glance at his face and notices the annoyed frown spread on it. He notices the grip on his boomerang as well.

"…I'm sorry I wasn't ready. I guess time got away from me today." Aang tries for a small smile to ease the situation.

Sokka glances at him, his frown turning less tense but his eyes more confused. "No, no… It's not about you." He lets a smile slip. "Sorry kid, guess I really am easy to see through."

Aang mirrors the smile. "Yeah, a little."

"Like you aren't? You almost let out Katara's surprise with that stupid smile of yours."

"Hey, that's not fair! I haven't celebrated a birthday in a hundred years! Besides, it took a long time to make that coat. I was excited."

They hit the borders of the city and Aang feels the crunch of fresh snow as he steps out onto the icefield "Yeah, the one with Appa's fur and everything." Sokka's breath makes a cloud in the air. He shoulders the bag cast over his back.

"You need any help with that? Are the swords in there?"

"No, no it's okay." Sokka's tone hints at irritation again. "We don't need them anyway."

"Oh… okay."

The snow keeps crinkling under his footsteps, louder and louder as they make it further away. The city starts fading in the light haze of the afternoon. They pass their training grounds, a section of snow packed firm from countless footsteps, with ice spikes riddling the ground. It would be hard to miss.

They keep walking.

"Sokka… aren't we going a little far?" Sokka turns around and eyes him for a second before glancing at the snow, then at the city, then back around.

"Just a little bit farther." He says with strained confidence. The way he coughs afterwards and the glance he tries to sneak behind him tell Aang that he's just trying to take the 'you're easy to see through' comment into account. All it does is make him him worry, on top of wondering where they were going.

The next time Sokka turns, he does it pointedly, gazing in the direction of the city before setting his bag down carefully. He opens the brown flap, letting old parchment poke from the inside as he rifled through.

He gives a tired laugh. "Where do I start?"

"What is all that?" Aang asks leaning over to take a look. There seemed to be dozens of paper, some crisp and white as if written just yesterday, but most were either burned, wrinkled, or yellowed by time.

"A history lesson."

Sokka picks out a rolled-up scroll with a broken, black wax seal. He glances at it before deciding to leave it be and picks up another parchment, one folded up to fit in your palm. He opens up and stares, leaving Aang to stew on his odd mix of dread and anticipation, topped with a tinge of confusion.

 _Why here? Why now?_ He'd always wanted to know about, well, everything, if only to make sure he didn't bring up bad memories by mistake again. But every time he wished to know, he wished to never have to know a few minutes later. The rebellion wasn't a storybook and Aang doesn't know if he can bear hearing it.

Sokka takes a seat and hands him the paper. "Here."

Aang takes a seat across from him. It's a map.

It's a simple thing, inked in black with ill-defined coasts and smudged lines. Mountains were marked as artless triangles, deserts a pattern of slanted lines and swamps a haze of dots. None of it impressionable, which left the map itself a blank canvas for the story it told. He looks up for a moment to find as Sokka equally entranced as he was.

He tilts the map back toward him. "What is this?"

"A map," he states, scanning the notes scrawled over the scroll, "Zuko's map."

He stops, looks up and meets Aang's gaze. "One of them at least," he tries to start another sentence but it dies in his throat. He coughs. "I… I haven't taken a good look at it in years."

Aang doesn't know how to take that, so instead hovers his fingers over a section of lines, seemingly stretching all across the Earth Kingdom in meaningless vines.

"Those are the tunnels," Sokka's voice rings in the air, "Toph made them, well, at least _started_ them; they spread fast if you've got an army of earthbenders."

"These are _all_ under the Earth Kingdom," Sokka gives a nod and a smirk at his amazement, "Woah."

"Well, most would've caved in by now with nobody using them, but yeah. This map was the rebellion at its peak," the smile lingers on his face, proud. "Those tunnels were one of the things that gave us an edge during the war; we'd pop in and out, just like that, and the Fire Nation had no way to follow us."

Aang took another long gaze at the paper. They lines spread everywhere, crossing each other so regularly it looked like a fisherman's net, clumping around the most important cities and fanning out in a delta towards the coast. With that reach, it was no wonder they could hold their own against such a hell-bent enemy.

"Well, they had the Dai Li," Sokka continues, "but we could usually shut them off with some metalbending."

"Metalbending…" Aang had heard a mention of it before, but even then he had told himself he'd heard wrong.

Sokka laughs, letting himself loosen up even more. "Another thing that gave us an edge."

He scoots closer to Aang and traces over a line on the map that the airbender had been following with his eyes. "That's the Pole March."

Sokka laid a finger to the south, where a red dot laid its mark and the path of the march started. "105 A.G., a few years after fighting started, Zuko made his way to the Southern Water Tribe. He'd just taken Gaoling, which was a pretty big deal. The guy decides to go on a big publicity stunt by going from pole to pole drumming up support, _instead_ of holding down his territories, which was a pretty bad move that I still don't get to this day."

"But… isn't that how you got to be part of the rebellion?"

Sokka lifts an eyebrow at that. "How'd you know that?"

"Oh… uh, Katara told me the story of your first time meeting."

"Huh," he sits on that thought for a moment, "Didn't think she'd… But anyway, it was a bad move to leave so early. Maybe, he knows something I don't…" His focus misses the map, but he snaps out it the next moment. "Or, he's a lucky idiot. You tell me."

His fingers weave through the southern islands, steadily making its way northeast. He stops on a marker in the middle of the sea. "We pass Kyoshi Island." Again, north. "We hit the Earth Kingdom mainland, manage to retake a small village and…" He seems out of breath, but follows the path again, along the coast east. "Through a bit of desert to Gaoling. We stay a while and a few of us keep on going."

He skips through the curves of the trail and lands on the North Pole. "We reach the North maybe a year later. We end up battling the Fire Nation ships that patrol the place as a show of strength and the Northern Tribe agree to help us."

Aang follows the line again. A glance at Sokka's face tells him that one ink stroke told much more than he'd ever be able to understand. He thinks of his own journey across that path; you could map it out, sure, but a black line could never tell of what he'd seen, what he'd heard, how he'd felt.

His journey had been one of fear. Sokka's would have been so much more, but right now all Aang could see was longing, and he wipes the feeling off his face a moment later.

"Right, right… Well, kid, there's a lot more." A quick look at the bag besides them stood witness. "About four more years. And two years before the march but I wasn't there and Zuko wasn't much of a story teller." Aang tries for a smile but can't make it reach his eyes. "Hey… you alright, Aang?"

"Yeah, yeah, it's just… a lot to take in." He looks up to face him, but looks away just as fast. Aang had expected to have to stomach the face of disappointment much more than this, but that didn't make it any easier when he had to.

"Sorry. I guess you had this planned for a while now and I just-"

"No. Nothing," he cuts him off, heatedly, "It's not you. It's – it's something else, okay? Don't worry about it."

The bag is placed between them with the bounty Aang now knew it must be holding. "I just want you to know about _this._ This information, the history of these places… it's going to be as useful as any bending you'll learn. You _need_ to know this."

Annoyance laces his voice and whether he meant it to reach him or not, Aang couldn't help but feel he were to blame. It wouldn't be uncalled for; if it weren't for him, maybe they'd never have had to make a single mark on that map in the first place.

He hears the ice crackle as Sokka stands. "Come on, they'll wonder where we are pretty soon."

He rises, hands the map back, and turns back towards the city, bright and tall, the wind having blown the haze from his eyes. Every step back feels heavy, the snow sounding too loud and the cold, piercing.

They reach the wall. Katara's waiting for them. Sokka brushes past her, and she walks him home.

"I think we'll take a day off tomorrow, Aang." She smiles down at him, worn. He can't stand to make her upset, so he nods and darts through the doors as quickly he can.

* * *

"The Avatar's training is to be sped up, especially techniques to defend against firebending." Arnook's voice boomed, despite only addressing the small table before him. His voice was one to be listened to, just like her father's, yet so different.

He stood, ready to dismiss the abrupt meeting just as abruptly as it was called in "Lastly, no one is to know about this message - _including_ the Avatar."

Sokka's up even before Arnook had finished the order, but they'd all been expecting it. The Chief raises his hand and her brother bites off his sentence. "Councilman, understand that I have shared this message solely because I do not believe in a leader keeping secrets from those he says he trusts.

"I trust you to, at least, _try_ to understand me. This letter has no backing whatsoever, not even a name or signature. At best it means nothing, at worse a trick, but we have gone years unprovoked and I will not change my position based on _this_ evidence."

The scroll rolls in front of Sokka. He sighs. "Arnook… we can't just sit here. If this thing is true that means the Fire Nation is planning on _attacking_ us."

Fire Nation. Attack. Those words reminded her of sunless tunnels, the hiss of steam, and blood on ice.

" _But_ if this isn't a trick – it means we still have allies."

Her brother holds up against Arnook's glare. "There's no better time to move than now. Aang can't get stuck in a war; he's the last chance we have. We need to get him to the mainland, find these allies, and hopefully get back in the underground. Word will spread, we'll get support –"

"Enough."

"If not now, soon! They're not going to –"

" _Enough,_ Councilman. The Avatar is not ready and as long as he is safe here, this is where he'll stay."

Sokka's voice strained, like his throat was fighting back a shout. "Arnook, we'll be sitting turtleducks out here. We've talked about this for years but you _can't_ brush me off this time."

"I'd thought your history would make you more cautious about striking unprovoked. It certainly has for me."

Her breath hitched for a moment. There was no venom in his voice, but it was a mark she'd never expected him to strike for.

"… You won't let him hear the past, won't let him know the future… You're leaving the Avatar _blind._ He needs to know and he needs to find his way, _soon._ "

The Chief stepped to the side, his shadow cast by the morning sun that peeked through the window. He straightened his chair and called for the council to rise. "The Avatar is safe. We have gone years unprovoked and I will not change my position based on what I have brought to your attention today. Meeting adjourned."

Sokka turned to her as the council shuffled past them. They share a look. Sokka clutches his old boomerang and storms out the doors.

* * *

 **AN: If you don't remember what the first line of the chapter was, go read it again. Might help to understand a little better.**

 **On another note, it has been about three months since I was last active on this site. Yeah…probably want to give the whole story a re-read if you've been here before. Long story short, I was kinda being like that meme where the guy sticks a rod into his bike, falls and blames it something else, that cartoon one? You know it? The rod was my ridiculous writing standards and the end blame was put on lack of time. But I have returned. And I have transcended from those unreasonable standards to a state close to 'fuck it, it's fanfiction'.**

 **Will this mean consistent updates? I don't know, but I hope for it as much as you do.**

 **Also, it's my birthday, so here's _your_ present, I guess? Thanks for attending.**


	6. Shot in the Dark

**AN: This is an excerpt out of my notes for this chapter: _Change the direction of the conversation at the beginning. This is Aang's chapter let him talk. Get a happy dynamic._**

 **You can tell me how that went. Next chapter will be... different, and usually something different = fast. So we'll see. I'm aiming for two weeks. Bring your friends.**

 **Also:** **Come one, come all, to the Pro-Bending Circuit this fall! Sign-ups are still open! I'll be there, judging, competing, I don't know! But be there! Forum link in my profile.**

* * *

"Up, up, c'mon! Keep your guard up! Wap, wap – pssssh!" Sokka makes the swipe across Aang's ribs in slow motion, letting his wooden sword just skim the monk's robes. "And, you're dead."

Aang lets his own sword drop with a crack in the snow, and heaves in cool, summer air. "Just – just give me a minute."

"Hang in there, Aang," Katara calls to him as she brushes Appa's fur. He roars out support as well. "And Sokka, don't you think this is a little… over the top?"

"It's either this or boomerang lessons, and I don't intend on getting hit in the face today."

"Sokka, Aang and I need to get back to training."

"And what do you call this?" Sokka brings out his true blade. "I'd like to get him up to real swords in this lifetime."

"We need to practice healing; Aang doesn't have time for skills he won't use."

"Can't we take a break today? We've being training so much more than usual these last few days." Weeks. Months. It seemed like an eternity since he'd last gone to bed without aches running across his spine.

Sokka gives a thoughtless _no_ and Katara wears a reassuring smile, patting the ice beside her and the bison. "A short one. I'm sorry, Aang, but we have to keep moving forward."

Sokka's up again before he'd taken his seat, dancing in mock battle with his metal blade advertising ruin in every move. When he wasn't on the other side of the battle, Aang could appreciate the grace in his swordplay. He recognizes a parry, a pivot, a false edge then a lunge, and, proud that he'd been able to recognize that far, a dead stop.

The metal finds itself fast in the ground, owner slumping against its hilt. He sighs. "Was it like that?" It was almost as if he'd been talking to the sword. He turns to his audience, annoyance bubbling through the creases of his face. "See this is why we need to keep going. I had, what? Five years to ask him about this move? And I didn't, cuz I was doing what you're doing now."

"Taking a break? Running yourself into the ground won't change anything."

He just shakes his head and drives the steel deeper in the earth. "Every moment is an opportunity, kid. That's why I teach you everything I can. Sailing, knots, swordfighting; who knows what kinda hellhole you'll drive the world into if you're not prepared the second you need it."

A hellhole. That was a pretty mild way to put it. Sokka waited for him, giving him time to digest his words, but in all truth, he'd come to terms with it all before. History happened in seconds. On a flying bison. In a storm. In a flash of lightning, the entire world could fall.

Aang answers stalely. He doesn't have the energy to entertain the man with easy sentiment. "Yeah. I guess so."

"Sokka likes to think he can make everything better," Katara puts in, her inner sensor picking up on the minute strains in her student's words. "But in the end, there are plenty of things we can't change. Things that we aren't _meant_ to."

She lets her hand drift to his knee, to remind him, again; _no one blames you, it wasn't your fault._ He loves her for trying, but she'll never be able to drag him out of the crater he's dug himself into, not with soft words and hollow gestures.

"I know."

"It's especially true for you, Aang. You're the Avatar; the spirits pay close attention to you."

"Yeah, right." Sokka slices through the air, his sword still held firm by the earth. "Like that's an excuse." He pulls the air straight from Aang's chest.

No one had ever confessed, at least, not frank enough for him to realize until now. He'd known, of course, had even suspected the swordsman of harboring the judgment earlier on, but the realization hit him deeper than the frigid tide of the north ever had.

For once, Katara doesn't notice his blanch, or if she did, she was, alarmingly, unmoved.

Her brother, sunk on one knee, eyes steady above the sword's hilt, dares her to dispute his words. "Are you gonna try and convince me?"

" _Stop it,_ Sokka," she strains, her chagrin tinged with hues of sorrow he'd never heard her direct at the man, yet, so familiar to Aang's own mind. "You _can't_ blame yourself for that."

"You can't tell me it was 'meant to be', Katara. There were so many things I could've done."

Aang sunk back even further, wishing he could drown under the tangles of Appa's fur.

" _I'm sorry."_ He chokes out, words smudged beneath his hands. Katara notices this time, but he can't see her face.

"-Aang." Is all she can manage, before Sokka, who had not the skill nor the patience to pick up the subtleties of the scene mere feet from him, chooses to speak in his defense.

"I _let_ him go. I let the entire rebellion _fall apart_." Aang lets his head lift up, letting his confusion distract him from the burning in his chest. "I-I _let_ it happen."

"That doesn't mean it was your fault!"

"It was."

"Then by that logic, we're all to blame."

"You weren't there with him! You didn't have a chance!

The biting of their voices stop as the two siblings revisit this moot point, obstinate glares shot from both sides, unrelenting. Aang hazily realizes that a pepper of wet snow had brought false tears to his eyes.

"You couldn't…" The flakes paint sorrow on Katara's face as well, but the sheen in her eyes are nothing less of real. Words tasted like ash. "…You couldn't have."

"I couldn't have…" His voice is rendered gentle by wear. "That's why I have to make sure I _can_ this time."

Snow keeps falling, heavy and callous, filling the silence. There's a change, and Aang lifts his head a touch higher. He lets a drop perch on his hand. They keep falling, effortlessly, each one burying a thought they had had just moments before.

It's professed in a stunned choke. "- _Black snow_." Words tasted like ash.

When Katara and Sokka stand and stare blankly into each other's eyes, only one thought remains exposed in their minds. They're early.

"Aang, Katara; inside the walls, _now_."

* * *

"What's wrong? What does it mean?"

They crash into their little house, away from the panic mounting in the streets. Sokka rushes into his own alcove, where he keeps his table of nations and the little stone markers he uses to play strategist, and shouts over his shoulder. "Katara, the supplies! Get him ready!"

"What's happening?" Aang tails his sifu as she picks through pantries and closets. She doesn't answer, and Aang finds himself besides Sokka, who leans over his map, marking red crosses all over.

"Look here, kid. This here's where you need to go."

"What are you talking about? What's happening, why's the snow so dark?"

"Soot and snow, ok kid? Do I need to spell it out for you? The Fire Nation's here, at our doorstep, for you. Now look at this map."

He mistakes Aang's choking silence as understanding.

"Here, this town's one of the closest to us, and it was one of our stronger bases back then, so there's a chance it's not Fire Nation yet. Or maybe there's people in hiding, I don't know, but it's our best shot. You got that, kid?"

Sokka's never been one to read between the lines, and Aang can't risk being misunderstood. "-No."

"Well, listen! We don't have time for this! Look, here –"

"No, I can't. I won't go."

Sokka opens his mouth a few times, face contorting between anger, confusion and plain desperation. He mumbles a quick _I don't have time for this_ and a few curses, but turns back to the map and continues.

"Here. You're going here. You can work a compass right? You need to find allies and-"

"No! I can't leave now!"

"You can and you will!"

"Stop! Both of you!" Katara has an old seal-skin bag strung over her shoulder that speaks of a long journey and Aang's heart pounds.

"I can't leave! You need me here. I- I can't run again!"

"What's wrong with you today?"

"Sokka, stop it!" The bag is laid too close besides him, and Katara's there with a grip on his shoulders and those eyes that always made him want to take back the words that had pained her. He sees his guilt mirrored in her and he can only shake his head, refusing to believe it.

" _Why?_ "

"Because it's not safe here, Aang."

"I should help."

"Not here. You could help so many more out there."

"I'll just end up hurting people again, I don't want to take that risk."

"You need to," Sokka's voice is milder, but weary, "You don't win wars by staying in your comfort zone." He has a scroll tied up in blue in his hand and holds it out to him. It's a map, a mission. "The Fire Nation's here, kid. You have to get out there."

An order. It's the exhaustion in the voice, yet passion in his words, it's the quiet against the panic and the brave cowardice in his stance that throws him back to a moment he'd hope to have forgotten. The warm quiet of the pier roamed his mind in a flash of memory, the grinning blue face seemingly too close to him. Honestly, the wraith seemed too ethereal to belong in this reality, entirely. But persistence was a pitfall of memory, and he remembers every word uttered in that tired rasp.

 _When the armies come, go to the ghost town._

He can almost feel the strings wrap around him.

"What was that, Aang?" Her grip stiffens, for a moment, then numbs entirely. Her harrowed eyes draw an answer from his mouth.

"He – he told me… he told me to go to somewhere." He's pressingly aware of Sokka at his side, gripping the blue bound map in his paling hands.

"Who?" Katara's hands are stone against his shoulders. "Who told you?"

"The person who rescued me from the Fire Nation." The word 'rescued' snags at his throat. "He wore a blue mask." He adds that in, sensing some myriad relevance in the fact.

The weight drops from his shoulders but another, less tangible, is mounting.

"Enough," Sokka steps into his bleared vision, lines and movements too harsh as he thrusts the abused parchment into his face. "You need to get moving."

"Sokka, didn't you hear him?" Her mind is still wandering in some far off nebula, eyes shining with the sight.

" _I don't care._ We're wasting time." Under Sokka's gaze, he feels nothing less than a pawn on the map just a step away from where they stood. "You need to get going."

"I'm not-"

"Didn't you _hear_ him? Don't you know what that might mean?"

"I heard him. But I _don't care._ "

Sokka picks the bag off the floor and drops it in his leaden hands, carelessly. Aang's hands grasp at the fabric, vainly searching for an outlet to silence the resentment boiling in his mind.

"You can't just ignore this! This means something, Sokka!"

"He needs to move! This is the best plan we have, Katara, does that mean anything to you?"

His fate is yanked back and forth, like some obscene display of puppetry.

"You can't ignore him!"

"Can't you think logically for one _second_ of your life, Katara! Aang!"

When Sokka turns back to him, likely to prod him with another round of crude words, the blue of his eyes have never felt so frozen. They melt in an instant. He looks into Aang's eyes and sees a storm so foreign to him that he takes an entire step backwards.

" _I'm not going anywhere!"_ He abandons the bag on the floor and bursts out the doors in an anger so blinding that his voice reverbs in his ears and Katara's calls mean nothing to him as he runs. But it wears. The puppet stings snap behind him and he feels himself collapsing.

He smells ash, a scent that when juxtaposed with the frailty of the realm around him makes him feel like retching. He's still running. There's a ridge just up ahead that juts out towards the sea. It hangs too far out and calves away meters at a time but over its horizon is his destiny. Perhaps it isn't the one he wants but it is the one he chose, and in his 100 years of experience, that means everything.

He vaguely recognizes Appa's shadow along the ice, but any semblance of the thought vanishes as the sea opens up before him. The sight steals whatever is left of his spirit. The ocean is more steel than water, and he can envision this moment immortalized in some Water Tribe carving years from now, or seamed onto a Fire Nation tapestry because imagining the scene as a lifeless relic stops him short of collapsing. He sees catapult rounds lit, one after the other, like restless stars in a smoldering imitation of the night sky.

The bluff sheds, and Aang takes it as alibi to avert his eyes from the sea. He darts back to the base of the cliff where Appa waits and he has nothing to look at but the white warmth of the bison's fur. His façade of noble defiance crumbles to nothing but fear. Fear and resentment and searing, _searing_ guilt.

" _Aang!"_ He can't even tell whose voice that is, but he shouts the moment someone is there to listen.

" _I never wanted to be the Avatar!_ " The sound of fire in flight eats at the end of his words. " _I never wanted any of this!_ "

"I know, _I know_ ," Katara's voice mirrors his own, "I'm _so_ sorry, Aang."

"I can't do anything. I can't - I can't even…" He gestures stiffly at the haze of battleships behind them.

"No, Aang." She takes him into her arms. "You can do so much, more than you can even _imagine._ " Her eyes take on a gleam, like his own but there are no traces of fear or blame in hers, just the radiant glow of what he now recognizes as unbound adoration.

"You're an amazing person. And we, we should have listened to you. We _can't_ decide things for you." She pauses as a fireball casts its blazing shadow over them.

"I – I don't know what's happening, Aang. I don't know what this means or what's going to happen but… but I trust them. And I trust _you_ more than anything else. I know you'll do whatever you need to do, Aang."

Thinking of nothing to say, he falls into her embrace once more. He hears Sokka shift, and when he turns to him there is no calm pretense on his face. He's scared and remorseful and he can't disguise it in shrewdly weaved sarcasm today.

"Aang." The catapults return fire with a vengeance, and whatever words the man had prepared crumbles in his mouth. "I – I'm… I can't. I can't tell you what to do, but... I guess…"

He hands him a parchment, folded up to fit in his palm. It was a map, inked in black with ill-defined coasts and smudged lines.

"I marked some places for you, in case, you know… but there's everything you I know and more. Just in case you might need it." He adds in with a somber grin.

Aang mirrors this as well. A spark of redemption flares in the dark somewhere, but it's not here. He has to leave.

Anything they had left to say is truncated by the ridge disburdening itself as a fireball hits its mark. They hold together as the ice plunges into the sea with a roar that shook up through his spine and scorched his ears.

Whatever words they care to give him in the next minutes are lost on him forever. The wind numbs him and the smoke masks everything as he flies, except for the restless stars trying to shoot up through the dark. They hang in the twilight for a moment, leagues short of hitting him, before they plummet back to Earth, where the waters wait to embrace them.


	7. Dressed Up and Nowhere To Go

**AN: Why am I such a piece of shit? Don't worry, my self-esteem's fine, but just… my relationship with deadlines. Deadlines? It's not you, it's me. It's always me. Also to clarify, this isn't every entry in the book, just a few that tell a story. First excerpt takes place after chapter 3, the last is after chapter 6.**

* * *

 _Reader,_

 _If you are in possession of this book, you can assume that I am no longer in this world, and due to the circumstances in which I left, this book remains unaltered._

 _I ask you to keep every other page unturned and burn this book where you stand. If you are of Fire Nation affiliation, I plead the Law of Agni in connection with the warriors' duty to abjure from sullying a fallen man's memory. If you are affiliated with the Earth Kingdom, Water Tribe or any form of insurgency against the tyranny of the Phoenix King, I plead you to honor the wishes of a distant ally._

* * *

 _10th December 111 A.G_

I hate Gaoling. The people don't even tip well.

* * *

 _12th December 111 A.G_

I've stayed here too long. The man at the teashop recognizes me now, well, not _me_ me, but Lee, he knows Lee and that means I've stayed too long.

10*2+5+2*5= 35

I saved 35 throughout the month. I'll need at least a week of supplies. A bag of feed for the ostrich-horse costs 5 here, so I'll break even. I won't have any left for my rations.

4̶*̶7̶ ̶=̶ ̶2̶8̶ ̶3̶5̶-̶2̶8̶ ̶=̶ ̶7̶

3*7 = 21 35-21 = 14

I'll need to barter the price down to 3 copper. I'll earn a bit more tonight, but I can't stay any longer. I'll sell the horn if it comes down to it.

* * *

 _14th December 111 A.G_

I can't sleep. I forgot to buy extra blankets in the middle of the damn winter. The others used to take care of this stuff. I'm useless on my own.

I can't even start a fire because who knows how far that guard followed me. Note: _never_ travel at night, on _back roads,_ if you can pass off as a regular traveler. Pass off, what am I saying, I _am_ a regular traveler. It's not like I'm a criminal right, it's not like I'm doing anything illegal, not like I even _know where I'm going._

I don't even have the mask on me. Just the face, I guess, makes it a little risky.

Dawn and afternoon would be the best time to leave. There'd be other people I could hide behind and that would be before they switched guards, so whoever's on the lookout would be half asleep anyway. That's kind of a plan, right.

It's like I'm on that damned ship again, just floating around, pretending I know what I'm doing. Maybe I'm chasing a ghost again. Either way, I'd say this times worse.

Still a few hours to burn. Agni, it's cold. Wouldn't it be great if I just froze out here? Alone, after everything that's happened, just out in the forest where no one'll ever find me. Ironic. Maybe they'll find me and figure it all out. I'd get to die twice. At least last time I went out with a show, this time I just deserve it.

Whatever. If it happens, it happens, I'm going to sleep. I need to figure out a plan tomorrow and that takes a lot more energy than dying. I've got enough experience to know that.

* * *

 _29th December 111 A.G_

The towns in the Earth Kingdom countryside have gotten… productive. The farmland's better than ever, but I can't say the same for the people.

The machinery helps, and the Fire Nation certainly has ways of turning a profit, but people in the fields are either barely past their childhood years or a few years over their retirement. There aren't many young women or men around, what with most of the generation either dead or behind bars.

That would be my fault. Now I get too many stares along the road.

Well, at the very least, the people here are generous enough to trade an afternoon of work with food and board. It's probably the only reason I've stayed alive this long. The man I boarded with today seemed willing to feed me just to have some company. It it weren't for his cataracts, I'm sure he would've recognized me by now and I don't think I can bear that again.

I wonder if I'll find Uncle somewhere in this sandpit. No. No, he would've picked somewhere smarter. The guards cycle through this place too much. Entire divisions march through every season, crashing through doors and collecting taxes by the cartful. From what I see, the injustice doesn't rile anyone up anymore.

So much has changed. I wonder if I've wasted my chance completely.

The man's calling me again. He made tea. I think I'll brew him some in the morning before I go on my way again. Wherever that is.

* * *

 _10th January 112 A.G_

It hasn't been a complete waste. A pouch of copper isn't really worth the march through the swamp, but it isn't nothing. This hideout's been raided already, but since nothing's torn up or burned, I'd say it was the swampbenders or some desperate rebels.

There's a decent amount in the pouch. I'll hold on to it. Maybe I'll actually need it one day.

* * *

 _22nd February 112 A.G_

Why did I come here? I don't know. At this point, it's really just a question of why not. The swamp just funneled into the Hu Xin province and the natural flow of travelers lead to the colonies. Who knows? The spirits lead the Avatar to my port that night, who knows what else they have planned? If I don't get caught, this might be a good thing.

 _If I don't get caught_. The spirits always leave it up to me to take care of that.

* * *

 _9th April 112 A.G_

They always go north.

* * *

 _13th April 112 A.G_

Before dawn: ||||

Three cargo ships stay at port. One warship from last night leaves port, heading north-east.

Sunrise:||||||

Four passing, a cargo ship eastward, three cruisers north. One cargo from before leaves east. A passenger ship enters and leaves back south. A battleship makes port.

Noon:|||||

The battleship leaves north. Another passenger ship stays. The rest are passing cargo, one makes port, two go north-east, one goes true north.

Evening: |

A battleship passes, southward. A messenger hawk flies south. It lands on the ship. The ship changes course, northbound.

* * *

 _14th April 112 A.G_

Shooting messenger hawks is a horrible business. First, buying a bow leaves me without a meal today, but I would've shot fire at the birds had I had to. Using fire is inhumane, and draws too much attention anyway. Even with a bow it draws too much attention. And then of course there's the sheer difficulty of it. The birds fly high, the only chance I get is either to shoot them close to the base, where they haven't gained altitude yet, or figure out where they like to perch to rest. And I'm not that great a shot. It's a horrible business.

I've shot two. They're messages meant nothing to me, but I have to keep trying, on the small chance that that ship meant _something._ It'll be dark soon, and then I'll have to rest.

Here's comes another one.

It's a monthly report on the base here. It's not what I need. The prison there is overfilled and understaffed, it seems. That's worth noting for later.

Another. I missed.

It's dark now. Pray I find something tomorrow. It would be stupid to risk staying another day.

* * *

 _15th April 112 A.G_

I heard gossip about downed hawks already. Agni, I spend half a year wandering like a fool and when I finally have a sliver of a purpose I can't do anything but fail.

 _I missed._ I'm one arrow down.

I missed.

I missed.

Another perched. Trade agreements.

Here's another. Missed. The sun is high.

Another. Agni. What else could I expect. I need to write to the North -

I hear footsteps.

* * *

 _17th April 112 A.G_

Draft:

The Northern Water Tribe

P̶r̶a̶y̶,̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶l̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶f̶i̶n̶d̶s̶ ̶i̶t̶s̶ ̶w̶a̶y̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶l̶e̶a̶d̶e̶r̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶N̶o̶r̶t̶h̶,̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶f̶r̶e̶e̶d̶o̶m̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶d̶i̶r̶e̶ ̶s̶t̶r̶a̶i̶t̶s̶.̶ ̶F̶o̶r̶ ̶w̶e̶e̶k̶s̶,̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶a̶r̶s̶h̶i̶p̶s̶ ̶p̶a̶s̶s̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶a̶l̶o̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶e̶a̶s̶t̶ ̶c̶o̶a̶s̶t̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶m̶e̶r̶ ̶E̶a̶r̶t̶h̶ ̶K̶i̶n̶g̶d̶o̶m̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶b̶e̶e̶n̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶d̶e̶d̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶d̶i̶r̶e̶c̶t̶i̶o̶n̶.̶ ̶A̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶s̶t̶i̶l̶l̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶b̶o̶d̶y̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶d̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶m̶e̶s̶s̶a̶g̶e̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶a̶s̶s̶u̶m̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶y̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶s̶a̶i̶l̶e̶d̶ ̶s̶t̶r̶a̶i̶g̶h̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶c̶o̶a̶s̶t̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶d̶o̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶ ̶h̶o̶w̶ ̶e̶a̶r̶l̶y̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶a̶ ̶w̶a̶r̶n̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶i̶s̶,̶ ̶a̶s̶ ̶I̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶n̶o̶ ̶w̶a̶y̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶w̶h̶e̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶l̶e̶t̶t̶e̶r̶ ̶r̶e̶a̶c̶h̶e̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶h̶e̶e̶d̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶w̶o̶r̶d̶s̶,̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶a̶s̶ ̶f̶a̶r̶ ̶a̶s̶ ̶I̶ ̶k̶n̶o̶w̶,̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶y̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶ ̶t̶r̶u̶t̶h̶.̶

T̶h̶e̶ ̶F̶i̶r̶e̶ ̶N̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ ̶i̶s̶ ̶s̶e̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶a̶k̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶i̶r̶ ̶l̶a̶s̶t̶ ̶f̶r̶o̶n̶t̶i̶e̶r̶,̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶b̶e̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶v̶e̶r̶y̶ ̶n̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶.̶Y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶s̶a̶f̶e̶g̶u̶a̶r̶d̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶A̶v̶a̶t̶a̶r̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶ ̶l̶e̶f̶t̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶F̶i̶r̶e̶l̶o̶r̶d̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶l̶o̶s̶e̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶a̶l̶l̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶g̶a̶i̶n̶.̶ ̶An attack is imminent. They plan to strike in the summer, when fire's power is greatest. The Avatar is no longer safe within your walls. M̶a̶k̶e̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶t̶e̶.̶

T̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶i̶n̶f̶o̶r̶m̶a̶t̶i̶o̶n̶ ̶c̶o̶m̶e̶s̶ ̶d̶i̶r̶e̶c̶t̶l̶y̶ ̶f̶r̶o̶m̶ ̶h̶a̶w̶k̶s̶'̶ ̶w̶i̶n̶g̶s̶,̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶s̶s̶a̶g̶e̶ ̶w̶h̶i̶c̶h̶ ̶I̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶l̶o̶s̶t̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶c̶o̶n̶s̶t̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶f̶l̶i̶g̶h̶t̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶s̶i̶g̶n̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶n̶a̶m̶e̶,̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶h̶o̶p̶e̶s̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶q̶u̶e̶l̶l̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶o̶u̶g̶h̶t̶s̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶d̶e̶c̶e̶p̶t̶i̶o̶n̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶I̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶e̶s̶e̶e̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶c̶a̶u̶s̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶m̶o̶r̶e̶ ̶d̶i̶s̶s̶e̶n̶t̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶h̶a̶v̶e̶ ̶n̶o̶ ̶h̶o̶p̶e̶s̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶e̶v̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶t̶r̶u̶s̶t̶ ̶i̶n̶ ̶m̶y̶ ̶p̶e̶r̶s̶o̶n̶ ̶a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶p̶r̶a̶y̶ ̶b̶e̶l̶i̶e̶v̶e̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶w̶a̶r̶n̶i̶n̶g̶.̶

̶ ̶T̶h̶e̶ ̶w̶i̶n̶d̶o̶w̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶f̶r̶e̶e̶d̶o̶m̶ ̶h̶a̶s̶ ̶o̶p̶e̶n̶e̶d̶ ̶a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶u̶s̶,̶ ̶b̶u̶t̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶c̶l̶o̶s̶e̶s̶ ̶s̶o̶o̶n̶e̶r̶ ̶t̶h̶a̶n̶ ̶w̶e̶'̶d̶ ̶h̶o̶p̶e̶.̶ ̶B̶y̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶ ̶s̶p̶i̶r̶i̶t̶s̶'̶ ̶w̶i̶l̶l̶,̶ ̶I̶ ̶p̶r̶a̶y̶ ̶A̶g̶n̶i̶ ̶p̶r̶o̶t̶e̶c̶t̶s̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶ ̶o̶r̶ ̶s̶o̶ ̶s̶t̶r̶i̶k̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶ ̶d̶o̶w̶n̶

Z̶u̶k̶o̶

It's a cry in the dark. They don't need to hear it.

* * *

 _2nd May 112 A.G_

Omashu is behind me and the letter is on its way, strapped on the back of the oldest hawk in the city. The keeper looked at me weirdly when I asked, but only the oldest bird would have had any idea how to get to the North Pole.

I need to get to Tu Zin. If the Avatar decides to leave the North Pole, I have to be there. The chances of the Avatar remembering the meeting point is tiny, and the chances of him actually going there is even less. That's not even considering whether Toph decides to come. But there's nowhere else to go, and the if it's meant to be, the spirits will lead them to me.

I have to write a letter to her, too. I should practice my penmanship.

* * *

 _4th May 112 A.G_

Food- 20

Feed- 25

Pen and paper- 10

Map- 5

Shovel - 10

=70

Busking's not going to be able to pay for this week. I'll have to find work.

* * *

 _30th May 112 A.G_

Tu Zin. The ghost town. What did Sokka always say about it? _It was dead years before we got to it, but when we left, there were plenty more ghosts._

True enough, but at least the blood's been blown away. The building's are still up for the most part, the land was bare enough to be ignored by the Fire Nation and this was the place that the tunnels came closest to the earth. I'd never seen it in daylight, but it seemed like a decent place to have a hideout.

There's some tables I could scavenge and if I could buy a new mattress I'll have a bed for the first time in months. I could start chopping at the houses and sell the spare timber in the town. The well works. I haven't seen a dead body. Seems great.

I'll start digging into the tunnels tomorrow. It'll take a while. The sand will keep slipping back down every shovelful I dig out, but at least it's diggable and not ice hard like the dirt up north. It'll be awhile, and who knows if it'll even be worth it. It's doable, and I'll do it.

Spring's broken. Being busy is one of the greatest blessings the spirits could have given me.

* * *

 _5th June 112 A.G_

Practice:

Fire. Air. Water. Earth. Fire. Air. Water. Earth. Fire. Air. Water. Earth

 _Fire. Air. Water. Earth. Fire. Air. Water. Earth. Fire. Air. Water. Earth._

ABCDEFGHIJKLMNOPQRSTUVWXYZ

abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz

fire air water earth fire air water earth fire air water earth

Aa Bb Cc Dd Ee Ff Gg Hh Ii Jj Kk Ll Mm Nn Oo Pp Qq Rr Ss Tt Uu Vv Ww Xx Yy Zz

Fire. Air. Water. Earth.

Decent. I'll practice again tomorrow.

* * *

 _7th June 112 A.G_

I broke into the tunnel today. I dropped the letter in, but I didn't go in. I'd never be able to navigate down there and I probably wouldn't have been able to climb out. Funny how you gotta look at everything differently when the others aren't around. If Toph was around, I'd never have considered dedicating a week into digging up the tunnels. Maybe I'll be reborn an earthbender one day. It would definitely be helpful right now.

I'll have to cover the hole again. It seems like a decency. Hopefully someone down there will choose to wander that tunnel and have the sense to give the letter to her. I can't even guarantee that. If it does get that far, it's all up to Toph.

Food is running low, I'll need to visit the town. Summer is almost here, and any minute away from Tu Zin might be risky. Never thought there'd be a day when there were too many place to be at once.

* * *

 _26th June 112 A.G_

The air is getting warmer. It's not time to get worried yet. Never worry. I'm on a crossroads of chance and mistakes. If this isn't where they're meant to go, I'd hope to never see them. But I have to stay. This is the only place I have a purpose to be.

Bah. What am I even saying. I'm heat fried and water deprived. Not even 30 and you're going crazy. What would uncle say?

* * *

 _11th July 112 A.G_

The Avatar is _here_ and Toph isn't. Was he always so childlike? He's mature for his age sure, but so young.

He's staying in a house across from mine. I think we both feel comfortable away from each other. But I'll have to give him food, and questions are bound to come. I have no answers. I'm completely at her mercy right now, and if she doesn't come, what do I do with him?

Agni, you gave me a year to figure this out and here I am, failing again. Peace. I'll make the best of it. The North Pole. I have to ask him how things are. Sokka and Katara, did they make it out?

Spirits, were they alive? I haven't let myself ask that in years. Did Sokka follow the path? Was Iroh with them? Was Mai-

There he is. He's coming here.

* * *

 _12th July 112 A.G_

It has been a long day. The sun went down hours ago, and even now I'm holding a flame for light in one hand and the pen in the other. The Avatar's asleep by now, I hope.

The boy's quite a character. He's cheerful and thankful and hopefully doesn't realize how tense the situation is. We have a few days at best. He flew over the smoke when he escaped the Water Tribe, so they might not have seen him. That's another extra day, maybe.

I won't bring it up. The boy's tense enough already, he tries not to show it, but the attack on the North has him stressed. Being around me probably has him stressed as well. But he's determined, very determined. He disappeared for a hundred years and it's his duty to restore balance, he said. There could be worse Avatars.

And Katara was his waterbending teacher. I mean, who else would they have picked. And Sokka gave him the map. He offered it back to me, but I don't think I could stand to look at it again. I told him to keep it.

Oh, the luck. I get to go to sleep knowing they're alive, but who knows for how long, now that the Fire Nation's at their doorstep. I think I'd rather go back to thinking they were _dead._

My hand's are shaking again. Not even thirty and you're losing. Sleep now, tomorrow will be smoother. Aang offered to help cut the wood.

* * *

 _14th July 112 A.G_

Toph came. She opened the tunnel and told Aang to come with her. I don't think he wanted to go, the bison at the very least seemed to hate going underground, but they went. If she noticed me, and of course she did, Toph didn't show it.

* * *

 _15th July 112 A.G_

Food is low. The timber isn't worth much at market anymore, but I can sell the shovel now. Maybe I can finally buy another tsungi horn.

* * *

 _AN:_

 _I'm content with this chapter. It's a little gimmicky but it's a great compromise between character inspection and plot movement._

 _Here's a quick timeline of all the dates revealed so far. You can find all the info in the story, but it takes a bit of quick math and I find that looking at it head on helps it sink in better. Even I find myself forgetting ages and projecting the characters years off than what they're meant to be._

 _100 A.G – Ozai carries out his doomsday plan, captures Ba Sing Se._

 _103 A.G. – The starts of a rebellion appear. Zuko is 19._

 _105 A.G. – Katara, 19*, and Sokka, 20, join the fight._

 _109 A.G. – The rebellion ends._

 _111 A.G. – The Avatar returns. Toph is 23, Katara is 26, Sokka is 27, Zuko is 28, and Aang is 12._

 _112 A.G. – Aang leaves the North Pole._

 _*In chapter 4, I originally noted Katara as being 21 at the time. This has been fixed._

 _As to why I have a 17 in my name: The Pro-Bending Circuit is in a new season! Sign-ups are closed, but come support the writers! Or sign up as a reserve to back up teams when they need it! From what I've seen, the competition creates some quality work. And guess who's judging… is me. Me is judging. And for as long I am a judge, I'll be wearing that number on my name. Link to the forum on my profile, or just search up probending circuit and you'll find it. Or slap this on the back of the FFN address: /_ forum/Pro-bending-Circuit/164505/

 _Sign up as a Reserve if you can!_


	8. The Harder they Fall

_AN: Writing this has renewed my love and respect for Toph, but god was it hard to write. For some reason, writing in present tense just wasn't going for me this chapter, so enjoy past tense. Maybe it's because I started re-reading Heroes of Olympus… anyone else have it happen when after you read a book you start writing like that author? Because boy do I do that._

 _This might be a good time to remind you that I have a "Work in Progress" archive, where you can see all the stuff that I've got in the works, including future chapters of this. So if I ever disappear, not only can you shout at me to hurry up, you can also help me write the thing. The link's on my profile, feel free to visit. Anyway, enjoy this chapter after the ridiculous month and a half wait I put you through._

* * *

"First lesson, kid: the Underground _stays_ underground."

* * *

This was a _nightmare._ This was a complete, spirit-damned, _nightmare._ And seeing how life had been going recently, that was saying a _whole_ lot.

Aang hadn't seen daylight in _days._ Some, Aang included, would say it was an overreaction, but when he sits down on his sorry-excuse for a bed and leaves his mind on idle, and the thought of _Oh spirits, I'm stuck in this prison for who knows how long,_ appears _,_ he can't help but choke up.

 _A prison._ The door may be wide open but the jagged stone walls were as confining as the iron bars of a Fire Nation warship. Maybe even worse. At least he had windows on the ship. The freshest air he'd be getting was if he stuck his head into one of the ventilation holes in the ceiling. Even those curved in stray angles, so any light that made it through was eaten away miles before it reached him.

Appa kept whimpering from the room across, and there might as well be a komodo-rhino throwing itself against the wall, because all Aang can think about are his big brown eyes straining to find sunlight and his sides shivering as he tries to snort out the dust coiled in his throat.

Aang was in no better shape. His hands kept shaking, every breath felt short, and his head pulsed. He _had_ to get out of here.

He stepped out into the hallway and the draft of the tunnels instantly hit his skin, like the breath of some pit dwelling monster. It was deserted, as always, but there had to be people around. There was always a new grain bag for Appa in the storage room, and the torches changed nightly.

Aang looked daringly down the hall, watching the torches in the distance flicker. "There has to be someone." Hearing a voice, even his own, was a comfort.

His footsteps echoed across the cavern. To his left, an archway opened to the storage room while closed doors lined the other wall. Dust glazed over the door handles and collected at his feet. Another archway led to some sort of forge, with dead furnaces spilling black coals on the floor. This was as far as he'd gone before.

In his defense, that was as far as he _could_ go; the hall dead-ended. Aang stood before a looming hunk of metal riddled with bolts and locks and hinges as thick as his arm. But unlike last time, Aang laid his hand on the steel and pulled.

He stared up at the door. "Unlocked."

All that prowess, and it was unlocked. Aang slipped through and the room opened up before him.

The walls shone shone silver, metal, likely several feet thick if the door was anything to go by. The roof overhead made a low dome shape so that the center of the room was about a meter taller than at the edges. Crates lined the far wall and steel chairs and tables littered the room. In the center rose a large stone dais, with craggy spikes of dirt like stalagmites jutting on the surface. They were in the likeness of mountains, he realized and he quickly spotted the scattering of towns and crooked roads, and the corrugated surface of the sea. It was a replica of the world, and from what Aang knew, it was extremely accurate.

The room seemed to be a bunker or command center of sorts, and it wafted such an air of desolation he almost didn't notice the silhouette. A brazier burned in front of the dais, its tender seated with her back towards him.

"Took you long enough," she took a long swig from the tin mug in her hands, "I thought the Avatar came with a lot more 'can-do' attitude."

Toph nodded towards the tables and a metal chair flew out. "Take a seat, kid."

He considered refusing for a moment but he quickly pushed the bitterness aside. A stray breeze sighed behind him. The gloom must be getting to him.

Aang took the seat and watched the smoke curl into the vents above. He turned to Toph and got his first full look of her since she'd taken him away at Tu Zin. They hadn't gotten the chance to introduce themselves during the walk from there. She'd barely turned around at all.

He remembered her vaguely from the stories Katara used to tell him and from those few times Sokka's lessons turned away from the map: a brave, brash earthbender, the greatest there ever was, the founder of metalbending who crumbled the walls of Ba Sing Se and stitched tunnels under the Fire Nation's feet.

The one person trusted enough to hold down the home front when the rebellion struck west. The one left in the rubble.

She took another swig from her mug. The cuffs of her shirt were burned and frayed and firelight danced off the dents in her armor. Her milky white eyes stared at the flames intently, but with a spark of amusement.

 _Blind,_ he remembered. She was blind.

"How are things up North," she turned to him and her offset gaze was both alleviating and disquieting, "Never though Arnook would ever let you down here."

"He didn't."

"Ah." She turned to the flames. "Sokka?"

He gave half a nod before thinking better of it. "Yes."

"And Katara?"

"She was my waterbending master." His throat welled as he recalled the state he had left them in. The smoke stung in his eyes again.

She spoke with a smile, but bitterness was weaved in her words like veins of coal in the earth. "Of course she was."

On a better day, her tone wouldn't have stung, but with ire still tracing his steps, Aang shot off. "Where have _you_ been?"

"Where have _I_ been? I think the better question is where the hell have you been, _Avatar."_

Toph's smile never left her face and Aang gritted his teeth and stayed quiet.

"Don't get testy, kid," she continued, " As for me, I've been enjoying my last few days of peace here at ground zero. I really should've expected all of this. Things never stay quiet for long. Just long enough for me to feel nice and comfy for a moment, then _bam_!"

The ground quivered. Toph stood up to get another drink.

"Nice place isn't it! Better be 'cuz you're stuck here!"

Aang's eye twitched at that and all he trusted himself to say was a mumble."Um…"

Toph banged her cup against the wall and the room echoed the sound like a gong. "Completely metal, bent most of it myself. The Fire Nation doesn't have many metalbenders on hand and I haven't taught many of the troops either." She swung her hands and spilled her drink as she ranted. "It's a good defense on its own, but we're also sitting right under the Si Wong and we pay a hefty price to keep the sandbenders on our side. Be pretty hard to dig down. And if they try to come from underneath…"

She pointed to a hatch in the floor that Aang hadn't noticed on the way in.

"We're floating on a nice bubble of natural gas. Would probably choke 'em on the way up. _But,_ if they ever do get in here, we open that hatch up and hope we go out with a bang."

She sat down again and eyed the space beside Aang's head like she couldn't wait for the room to go up in flames.

"That's…"

"Pretty good, huh? Well, that's a little rundown of this place. It's the safest place you and I can be. Safest, not really safe. Just the best we can do." For a second, her smile faltered. Then she took another sip and when the mug came down, the smile had returned. "A bit of metal's not gonna stop anyone. I mean, if a kid like _me_ could figure out how to bend metal, what's stopping anyone else from figuring it out?"

Aang blinked. Her words hung in his ears - _If a kid like me could figure it out… what's stopping anyone else?_

It felt _wrong_ for her to throw that out so casually _,_ he didn't know why. He'd never met her before three days ago, but the self-loathing and doubt and cynicism in her words seemed alien coming from her mouth.

He remembered Sokka and Katara's words, and how their faces always lit up with sadness, but also pride, when they spoke of the 'great and mighty' Toph Beifong. _A warrior. A commander. A hero. When she called herself the greatest earthbender alive, no one could ever say she was wrong._

"But…" Aang stared at the battered person before him. "They said you were the greatest there ever was."

"Really." Her smile dropped. Reality seemed to zoom into her flame cast face as Toph stared straight at him. " _And who told you that?_ "

Her lips switched between a sneer and scowl.

"A _great_ earthbender, wasn't I?" She mocked. "Great earthbenders let a rebellion _burn_. Great earthbenders aren't even worth coming back for." Her words rang in his ears and it's then that Aang realized that those veins of bitterness he had heard before were just the surface layer above wells and wells of crude hate.

She turned away from him and sighed. "What's your name again, kid?"

"...Aang."

"Right. Aang. Been a long day. I've had my say, so you might as well go back now. We can… uh, we can start training… tomorrow." She spoke like those few sentences had sucked away all her strength.

He didn't dispute the order. Aang stood. He started noticing little things as he left, like the crumbled mountains and rubble scattered on the dais, crates and barrels that were broken open, armor and weapons left abandoned on the forge floor, and scorch marks littered everywhere he turned.

The tunnel heaved a great sigh, sad and tired, as if it remembered how proud its halls once were, all before it fell apart. Aang laid a hand on the stone and wondered how he'd ever be able to raise it back up one day. He entered his room, and somehow it was quieter and lonelier and more of a nightmare than it had been before.


	9. Whistling in the Dark

_AN:_ _HAPPY FANFIC-IVERSARY EVERYONE! Rise and Fight turns 1 today!_ _Enjoy this extra long, extra angsty anniversary chapter everyone!_

 _But first, role call!_

 _Thank you to Ambiguity in D Major, AUehara, B00kFan, Bardur, BooksAreMedicine, cerokun, childofthegarlicbreadassassin, ChubbyTabby, Cindar, Daughter of the Cedar, diesfromfandoms, enticement, EvilAngel310, EvilPopcorn, fallenangelsofolympus, Fanficer112358, fanheart1296, Flip Ants, Goikuchan, Goldenbrook15, GuardianXAngel, Heavensguard, Iris Irine, Justonefan, kat1114, Kimberly T, M. , Magyk Knight, Malevolent Dark Reflection, Melantha963, Mommy'sLittlePyro, mon-petit-pois, Mr. Haziq, Nilinara, NNeko, NorthOfTheFuture, Ourozero, prodigious11, qazkara, RedHerring1412, RhiannonGrey, S'hana Zi'ah, Sea of Crossroads, Sewrtyuiop, , Soirreb, soul Eater Herondale, Soulessazn, StarLuce, The Arcticourt Spellwright, The Guardian White Wolf, TheRealSokka, UmbreLab, Violet Avrie, viva la bee, whattheDalek, WriterGirl7673, yoko.25, Yumi Take, baesharam, BarnabusAmbrosiusIII, BBLimits, bionicle45678, catchstraw, Cuetlaxcoyotl, Drako90451, eloquentstars, Emerald Sage, Furryfuzzy, HatethePlayer-NevertheGame, idiocypersonified, JellybeanTango, Kage Getsuga, Kageriah, kittycat1810, lilo202, mousecheesecake3, NatNicole, NellYgermany, Night13, nikesilvermoon, NotReallyAQueen, novelreader, of-the-sunshine, PokeSpeBanette, Quinnec, rudefool, Sara Snow, sarahxcrawford, Sea of Vinegar, Southern Hearts, Stereophonic Aftershock, SundarDibujar, The Quiller, Thunderblade14, Tragic Songbird of Eddis, ValkyrieVeela, Vandenberg, Wings As Eagles, XSilverXGoldXSonataX, for reading, following and favoriting._

 _Special thanks to Kimberly T, NatNicole, Yumi Take, SpiritMonkey, Quinnec, Vandenberg, mon-petit-pois, Sam, WriterGirl7673, PokeSpeBanette, S'hana Zi'ah, Malevolent Dark Reflection, XSilverXGoldXSonataX, Tragic Songbird of Eddis, diesfromfandoms and Reality Rejection Service for your reviews, and making this story even better. And all you guests. You definitely brighten up my day._

 _Also, it seems I have misjudged the canon position of Tu Zin. For the intents of this story, Tu Zin stands west of Gaoling._

 _Speaking of anniversaries, for those of you have read my story, Revenant, I feel obliged to give you an update as the anniversary of its completion passes. A continuation is in the works. Not a sequel, mind you, but something more like an end piece. I'm really excited for it, though. If you haven't read Revenant and Ghost!Zuko sounds at all interesting to you, feel free to head that way._

 _Thanks for sticking around._

 _._

.

.

The first day passed slowly. Much too slowly.

They trained in a huge, mismatched cavern of natural caves and earthbent pockets. Stalactites hung high above them and a little stream gurgled between two stone badgermoles on the other side of the cavern.

Two boulders stood proudly at the center of the room, unscathed, unscratched and unmoved. They would have been laughing at him if they could. Toph laughed for them.

Aang sat against the stone and buried his face in his hands. _When would the day end?_ He's too homesick to focus, too frustrated to even stand and the task of earthbending loomed over him so menacingly that it controlled him more than he controlled it. Toph's mockery didn't help.

"You _really_ hate this place don't you."

Did he really have to answer that? "I just hate being so… trapped." He was on the verge of screaming, but as he looked up and met nothing but dull, brown earth, he could only muster a sigh. "I'm an airbender. Air needs to be free."

"Let me tell you something about _freedom_ , kid. And it's got nothing to do with _space._ Because let me tell you, if you dropped me out of the sky, I would not be feeling _free."_

Aang huffed at that. Toph continued her monologue while waltzing around the cavern, offhandedly calling up walls of stone to shatter. She seemed disinterested in her own words, which only made Aang feel even more mocked.

"Freedom's about having control; being able to choose what you want to do and doing it. And you're the Avatar. You can control everything, save _people_ maybe, but you might figure that out too."

He stood shaking a little, whether from fatigue or anger or disbelief, he wasn't sure. _You can control everything._ That was as unlikely as sunlight in the Underground, but Toph continued, brushing dust off her armor.

"Feeling trapped isn't getting you anywhere. You hate this place? Free yourself." She said it plainly enough, but Aang heard the taunt loud and clear.

 _Free yourself._ As if it was that simple. As if she believed he could do that. Freeing himself from the tunnels was a longshot in itself, but to free himself from his greatest burdens, his duties, his expectations; that was impossible. They stacked over each other, layer by layer, crushing him like dark, choking _earth._

Aang laid a hand on the nearest cavern wall. _Earth._ His heart pounded slower in his chest, as if it had found the right beat to dance by. He closed his eyes and imagined the stone shifting and cracking to the surface, the soft loam compressing and gravel turning to dust. The wall pressed back, stubborn. _I can control this._ For just a moment, the stone walls felt less like a barrier but more like a canvas.

 _Free yourself._ His hand fell back to his side. His heart quivered and all of a sudden he became keenly aware of Toph standing behind him, feeling his every move, judging him, probably sneering. Anger welled. He couldn't do it; she _knew_ that, didn't she? More than anything, she shouldn't want him to. Freeing himself, running away, shedding his obligations; that would destroy everything she'd ever worked for. He couldn't leave. He was the Avatar, and he was trapped in this prison, prodded forward by fate and bound to his destiny. He could change nothing; not even a stone would bend to his will.

"I can't control anything!" His arm tensed. For once, Aang let his anger translate into force and he regretted it before his fist even touched the stone; mostly because it _didn't._ Where his hand should have connected with the wall was a crater as wide as two strides. At the center of it, air brushed at his knuckles.

"Well." Toph looked on with some sort of grim amusement. "I guess there are things we can't control. But dirt is definitely not one of them."

Shame coursed through Aang's veins, but awe left everything else in the room fuzzy. Toph laid a hand in the crater.

"Pretty good. Determination's better fuel for earthbending than anger, but we can work on that later. I feel like there's a lot that you'll be changing around here."

Toph left the cavern and the rest of the day passed by a beat faster.

* * *

Weeks washed away like dust along the stream bed.

Mornings, or at least what passed for mornings in that sunless place, were eaten away by training. Mindless work filled his time afterwards, usually chipping away at the cavern, widening it little by little, until dinner was called. Evenings were calmer, spent around a brazier in the command room, dining on whatever rations they found that day.

It was dull, but not maddeningly so; in fact, when the cavern was large enough for Appa to roam in and when the tunnels started to fill with soldiers and messengers milling around and awaiting orders, it's wasn't really bad at all.

The tunnels were warmer with bustling in the background. Toph smiled more, and not that crude grin that she used to favor; the one she wore now was unmistakably mischievous, and a lot more happy.

He reads her letters for her, writes her replies and, when the paperwork's done, they sit back by the warmth of the fire. She's not at all a sentimental person, Aang suspects that with the battering position she held, it would be nearly impossible to be one and still sane, but some nights she'll stare up at the ceiling, draw a long breath, and start.

"Reminds me of old times." A story was bound to follow. They weren't sugarcoated as Katara's tended to be, nor calculated like Sokka's; just plain and spontaneous and usually nothing but tragic.

...

In the north, speaking of the rebellion was practically taboo. He gleaned whatever information he could, but it was usually slow, fruitless work, and the more he learned the less he seemed to know. In the end, Aang wasn't really sure if he wanted to know.

He didn't have much of a choice with Toph. War stories were her favorites, and there were many nights when Aang found himself hearing them over a blazing fire. But she told them well, and when stories weren't told in vague, bitter whispers, they took on a sheen of reality.

Katara and Sokka had fought in the rebellion; he knew that. He didn't know that Sokka and Toph had lead one of the most successful line of raids in the history of the war. (They were prison breaks. A bulk of the earthbender population had been held on barges off the shore of the mainland. All it took was a respectable plan of attack, a bit of sailing and being aware that coal and steel were decent ammunition for earthbending. Then it was a matter of rinse and repeat.)

Katara had once held down the Serpent's Pass from a fleet of warships long enough for an entire battalion to pass. She and Toph had been thrown in prison together in some backwater colony, which they promptly broke out of and liberated. (She had looked like a monster on that pass, but it didn't last long. She was back to fawning over everyone like a mother turtleduck when they reached the other side. As to how they ended up in prison, well, in short, Toph had gone on a bought of gambling. The escape itself had been such a throwaway experience that no one back at camp had realized they were gone.)

Then there was Zuko, dragon of the rebellion himself. Their meeting at Tu Zin hadn't given Aang any insight into the man. Aang realized long ago that he was just a failure away from being in that man's shoes.

"Bit of a grouch. Helluva leader. Drama queen, if you ask me." Toph told of him coldly when he came up, and that was often, but she gave him credit where credit was due. Often, she'd fall deep enough in the past to forget the contempt he was held in the present, and the story went on with that air of adventure.

(She'd once caught him sneaking off at night with dao swords strapped on his back and a wooden mask over his face. He had been headed to a stronghold to free their captives, an operation that had been vetoed by the council that evening. When they'd first met, underneath Gaoling as the annual Earth Rumble had come to a close, he wore red and gold that made the other fighters' heartbeats squirm. " _I heard this is where I could find some warriors."_ They had taken back the city barely a week later.)

It was battle after battle, adventure chasing adventure like heartbeats. Her words were enthralling, but less like an innocent circus act and more like a duel to the death being played out in front of him. Worst of all, when silence started to spread, Aang was reminded whose blood was bound to be spilt.

On the nights where stories chased away sleep, he wondered whether the Water Tribe had been wise in keeping the rebellion in the quiet.

* * *

After his first lesson in metalbending, Aang stared at the door for hours.

It was one of the several steel doors that led out of the little bubble of the base Aang knew. On the other side would be a guard or two, skilled enough in the art only to move the steel pistons within the locks and allow passage to those deemed an ally. In the months he'd lived under the Si Wong, he'd seen the door creak open and closed hundreds of times and caught glimpses of the torch lined walls on the other side.

It was bewildering to think about. Even if just half of the labyrinthine etches he saw on the map were accessible, he could still probably walk out there and navigate himself to the Outer Wall of Ba Sing Se without having to set a foot on the surface world.

The surface world. He's not sure when he'd taken to calling it that, but he did know that more than anything else, he wanted to be out there. The tunnels weren't suffocating anymore, in fact it's almost _homey_ in ways, but he yearned to see the sun and feel the wind carrying him high into the sky. The open airs were as much a part of him as the tattoos on his skin. They'd been apart for too long.

Ability had blocked him before, but today, he'd finally gotten those stubborn coins to fling themselves into the cavern wall. After he'd spent a few minutes gazing in disbelief at the entry holes in the earth, Aang's legs steered him straight to the door.

He could bend the steel just a few inches, enough to unlock it and then...

"You know, if you wanna go; just go."

Aang didn't jump, not _physically_ at least, his flightiness had been crushed flat some time ago, but guilt seized him cold. "I - I wasn't going to…"

Toph rolled her eyes. "Horrible liar. Don't waste your breath."

"You're - You're not afraid of me running away?"

A smirk rolled onto her face. "Here's the thing, kid. If you ran away thinking you're ready to face whatever's up there, then you probably are." She threw an arm over his shoulder like they were old buddies and led him closer to the door. "If you left because you couldn't handle it anymore, you're too weak to be worth training anyway."

The comment might have stung a few months ago, but a smile finds its way on Aang's face. "I'm going to take that as an, _I trust you._ "

She snorted. "Whatever, kid. The world's a mess. One day you'll be _begging_ to have it back nice and easy down here."

"I don't think that day is today, though."

"Ha." Toph flicked her free hand and the door gave a familiar clunk. She gave him a slap on the back, maybe for reassurance, maybe to propel him out into the firelit tunnel "Take a hike, kid. When you get back, maybe we can talk about taking that bison of your's on a walk."

* * *

"The first tunnels were paved in blood."

It was one of her worst stories. He should have known there was nothing good to be heard of Tu Zin. He remembered his time in the icy north, years ago, staring down at an ill defined map as Sokka traced a finger over a line that snaked from south to north. Even then he had faltered as he passed the town, even then his eyes had gleamed with pain.

It was early in the march. Their numbers were occupied with the tribespeople of the south, a few Earth Kingdom citizens who had banded with them from the last town, their crew from Gaoling, herself and Zuko. When they entered the ghost town to rest before making the final stretch to Gaoling, morale was strong.

Fears of pursuit, which had constantly overshadowed them at sea, had been left at shore. It proved fatal.

"They came in the night." Toph's voice was flat and indiscernible. "A low blow...but effective."

Some were smothered in the flames, others crushed by falling timber; those would be the gentlest deaths that night. Their forces razed as easily as grass in a dry field, and she wanted nothing more than to be as blind in the night as her allies. Bodies fell like raindrops, heartbeats burned to the ground.

Their enemies had surprise, numbers and a psychotic Firelord on their side, the perfect ingredients for a slaughter. Lightning crackled, agony rang in the air.

She had been ready to die that night, young, as she'd always expected, but in a moment, as if she herself were struck by lightning, she found the idea detestable. She felt Katara, that spirited, foolhardy girl who'd never had a day of training in her life, fight with what little water she had against an enemy she could never defeat. Her brother scrambled through hostile ranks, drawing attention, signing his own death warrant, sword in one hand, the other dead at his side. And Zuko, he stood in a sea of enemies, more fire than man. She saw bravery as tangible as the stone beneath her feet, something fiery and worth defending. And she did not die that night, rather, she learned that retreat was _always_ a viable option.

Dust swelled into the sky, infusing itself with the smoke filled wind.

She bounded into the pit at her feet and shouted for them to follow. She widened the tunnel, willing it to go deeper and deeper and deeper… Shuddering breaths echoed behind her, her own joining the chorus as they ran. She doesn't know how many perished in those tunnelways, whether from untended wounds or exhaustion or crushed underneath the stones she caved in, but there are too few footsteps.

They reach Gaoling. The world smelled of death.

But the damage had been done, and somewhere in those blood watered stones a barrier had shattered inside her, and love and hate burned more fiercely than she'd ever felt it before. The world smelled of death, and a fire had been lit.

* * *

He was deep into his second autumn, likely his dozenth journey through the tunnel ways, as he lead Appa through Si Wong Pass, a tall, smooth limestone passage that lead to the eastern shore of the Earth Kingdom. From there, it would be a short flight to the Eastern Air Temple.

Aang whistled an old tune as he walked, which echoed through the winding, torch-lit tunnels. It helped keep the ghosts at bay.

The melody stuttered for a moment, as footsteps played through the ground. He felt them long before he heard them, and it would be longer still till he saw who they came from. He felt two pairs, one lithe and graceful, more at home in a royal palace than in a mildew stained burrow, and the other steady and firm, characteristic of an earthbender.

Despite the graceful gait, the former seemed to have a heaviness pulling at their frame, as if their clothes were lined in lead - or laden with hidden weapons.

Aang kept whistling. The next turn opened into a stretch of hall, where at the end, two figures interposed the usual bleak of the tunnel. Even from a distance, Aang could distinguish the red and black robes of the woman on the right, the more nimble footed one.

The Fire Nation apparel alarmed him for a moment, but he quickly proved it irrational. Plenty of Fire Nation soldiers had revolted against their country and joined the rebellion. Another woman walked by her side, in green garb, barefooted, likely an earthbender. If they _were_ hostile, Aang could simply cave the place in.

They met in the middle, Aang halting his song and the two dropping their words.

The red clad woman gave the two airbenders a fleeting glance. Her face was pale and distant. "The Avatar?"

"Yup, that's me. I'm Aang." He offered a hand in greeting. She accepted the gesture hesitantly, but didn't offer a name in exchange.

She made eye contact with her companion. "I guess it is true."

"I was rooting for it." She smiled slyly and shook his hand as well. "If you see the Chief anytime soon, tell her the place is _seeded._ "

Aang didn't know what to make of that, so he told them he surely would. The earthbender kept up a few more rounds of idle banter ( _Where you going? You're younger than I thought you'd be. Your bison's pretty cute.)_ while her companion stayed aloof. Her eyes had turned from cold, to plain hostile.

The earthbender laid a hand on her friend's shoulder, which was not appreciated, said her farewells and led them both away. He didn't continue his journey till their footsteps were out of his range.

The red robed one reminded him too much of too many people. Her eyes were filled with emotions Aang had seen too many times over. Hate and loathing, regret and blame, and sadness. There was always sadness.

He decided not to mull on it. Aang lead Appa deeper and deeper into the halls, whistling away the darkness.

* * *

"Box of standard rations. Cured jerky. Dried fruit." Aang read the script written on the side of the crate. "Ugh. Canned sea prunes."

"Good, good." Toph was leaned against the wall, stifling a yawn. Inventory check was a staple task every week, a rather dull one, with only sporadic deliveries keeping the job from being wholly monotonous.

He reached for a parcel crammed in between the crate and the storage room wall. It was soft, wrapped in brown leaf and tied up with twine.

He read the label. "Common citizen outfit, two pieces. Special order #247."

"Oh." A little bit of light caught in her eyes, filling them mischief. "That's for you."

Aang stared at the parcel for a moment, before turning to his sifu, who rolled her eyes. He took that as a _go ahead._ He set the package on the rations crate and started untying the rope.

"A few days late," Toph remarked. Aang pulled the twine free, revealing a pair of dusty brown and gray clothes. "But I thought they might let you blend in a little better when you go on your little _adventures._ "

He pawed the cloth, which felt warm and soft, when he suddenly spotted a hint of orange behind the surface gray. His heart quivered incredulously in his chest.

"And that… I thought you might want it when the time comes." Aang pulled the robes out from the back of the parcel: orange and yellow cloaks, brown trousers, and a red sash. "They're a few sizes too big, but you're what? Fifteen still? You have a few growth spurts left before you'll be needing that."

A smile broke onto his face. The colors of the Air Nomads seemed foreign in the ennui of the underground, but so familiar and bold and _beautiful_ in his own eyes; he couldn't help the rush of joy he felt.

Aang turned to Toph again, making the first step towards her and wrapping her in an embrace and saying _thank you, thank you, thank you_ a dozen times over until the word became devoid of meaning. She met him halfway, wrapping him in a headlock and grinding his head in a noogie.

"Yeah, you better be grateful! Had to make a special order for that. Had to find a tailor, buy the cloth, find the dye. So much trouble for a lightfoot like you."

Both laughing, Aang somehow wrestled the hold into a hug. "Thank you, thank you, _thank you._ This means so much to me."

He wasn't sure why, perhaps being wrested away so savagely from his home had made him painfully attached to it, but the idea of being able to face the world in his people's colors filled him with giddiness, but also a certain type of bravery. For once, he felt willing to face anything.

Toph smirked again. "And here's the best part." She stamped a foot on the ground, willing a section of floor to launch a long staff of wood into the air and right into her palm.

Aang stared at the sandalwood pole in awe. "But… _how?_ "

Toph shrugged. "I knew a guy who was completely moon-eyed for your little airhead culture. I pulled a few strings."

The glider was laid in his hands. He gave it a light tap on the ground, and straight, onyx wings sprouted from the staff. He could almost feel the wind carrying him high, high into the sky.

He mouthed another thank you.

Toph fixed her eyes on the staff, and for a moment, a forlorn expression washed over her face. Then, like a quick change artist, a tired smirk fixed itself in its place.

"You can thank me tomorrow in training. I except 110 percent, no, _120_ percent, Avatar." She stifled another yawn. "Have fun with your toys. We can finish inventory later."

She hesitated. Before she left the room, Toph gave him one last smile. Her eyes glinted lowly; something worn and tense and inconsolable.

* * *

"Rebellions don't die overnight."

It was simpler to say they do, less messy, less convoluted, but it wouldn't be true. Rebellions had to be kicked down and choked out and locked away; dying quietly would have been a kindness.

The start of the end, she remembers, was carried on the backs of messenger hawks. The strike on the Fire Nation had failed. The news spread across the shore like a tidal wave, and with it came fear and outrage and anger, all misdirected and incoherent and _wasted._ She had spent too many nights stiff with despair, too many nights that could have been spent reining those emotions into fatal action.

The Fire Nation took back the coast, slaughtering any allies that tried to return from the siege. They were pressed back from Ba Sing Se. Somewhere in the cold, distant sea, a ship carrying the fire of the rebellion was set ablaze. Behind the walls of Omashu, panic rocked the streets and coursed through the tunnel ways.

Red and black gathered around the city, primed, but never striking.

"Would have been better if they did." The flames roared as Toph poured the rest of her drink in the brazier.

Aang's voice is barely above a whisper. "They didn't attack?"

"No. Even worse." Her eyes were cloudy, whether from the liquor or the memory, he wasn't sure. "They called a grace period."

The offer was laid. She hadn't thought twice of it; it was too glaring a trick and her loyalties were too entrenched to even consider it.

They were given a month to turn themselves over to the Fire Nation and declare themselves a servant of the empire. If they did so, they would be returned to their homes, and if they paid their taxes and acted like a good little slave, they would be spared from the Phoenix King's wrath.

It was a load of komodo dung. She'd rather burn alive than ask mercy from the man that had razed her home and slaughtered the few people she called friends.

But hope was a hard thing to keep, and too late did she realize that not all her troops were as ready to face death as she was.

She could never sleep at night, too haunted by the footsteps she felt of dozens abandoning the city. She never stopped them. When the fires rolled over their walls, Omashu was but an empty shell.

* * *

He dreamed of phoenixes and ash and bloody swords when he was awoken by a deafening _crash_. It reverberated, the sound still shaking in the air when another crash echoed. His heart pounded. He leapt from his bed and peeked out his door.

Toph swept through the hallway, her armor unscathed, a golden sun glinting at the center of her breastplate. A helmet was tucked under her shoulder, metal gloves adorned her fists and a dagger listed at her belt. Two soldiers flanked her side.

She walked three paces past his door before whirling back to face him, eyes like white fire. "If you're going to stick your nose into something, do it with pride at least."

Aang slinked into the hallway. "What - what was that?"

Toph scowled. "Get to the bunker."

He stood there for a count of ten. His hands shook. Toph _always_ answered his questions, no matter how painful it might be to hear them.

"But…"

"Go." She gritted her teeth and disappeared into the hallway. Another crash boomed from the darkness, like the heartbeat of the earth itself.

He clutched his arms, mind still groggy from waking up, ears still haunted from Toph's words. Was it a test? It took only one order to destroy Toph's world; she knew more than anyone else that some orders were made to be broken. Was he to follow her?

 _Get to the bunker._ Toph's sightless eyes seemed to bore into him. _Go._

She knew that there were orders that had to be broken, but Toph knew better than anyone else to never give orders lightly.

He ran for the bunker, and locked the door behind him. The room opened up just as it had years ago, quiet, desolate and unmovable. He fell to his knees before the dais.

Crashes boomed somewhere far, far away.

His eyes were bleary and his breath shallow, but the display before him caught Aang cold. The rubblehad been cleared off, the mountains remade, and new cities decorated the surface. Little blue flags painted the north. Green markers swarmed in the Si Wong and scattered around the Earth Kingdom. Red counters washed over the dais and encircled the green of the desert.

In the center of it all, a golden yellow coin glittered.

Crashes roared in the dark; the sound of stone and fire hurled against metal. Aang had never felt more trapped.


	10. Dark Horse

Life was a quiet affair.

It plodded obediently along like an ostrich-horse on a lead. Zuko's own trudged behind him, the occasional tautening of the rope in his hand being the only reminder of its existence.

Dusty merchants and worn out travelers marched through the market street, where frayed awnings flanked either side, shading the goods on sale. Hungry looking salesmen eyed the flowing crowd, barking out offers and holding their wares up to the sky.

The sun beat down. The desert wind blew brittle and lazy.

His eyepatch dug into his skin. He'd taken to wearing the patch when he'd found himself in a roaring port town off the south coast, where there were too many well traveled eyes and knowing minds. It was a small part of a disguise, but the black cloth brought no more attention than the scar itself, and at the very least, it covered up one golden eye that he could be recognized by. Besides, the sight in that eye had long since flickered out.

A merchant scowled at him. He turned away. Life was oftentimes tense, yes, but always quiet. Tense and horribly depressing, but always quiet.

He tuned into local gossip as he walked. He heard of rising taxes and falling prices, infighting within the government. Some wisps of the Avatar braved the public range. And of course, news of the robberies, the raids and the riots that carved a line straight through the empire. The stories of the latest attack chased him wherever he went.

Zuko smiled placidly. Day life was a quiet thing. Night life was a different ordeal entirely. The gossip almost convinced him that he had done something of value in those last few years. In the grand scheme of things though, it likely meant nothing.

He grew tired of the crowd and slinked into the nearest tavern, where he buys the cheapest beverage and waits out the midday heat. Tucked away in the corner, a gray haired woman sits across a Pai Sho board, awaiting an opponent. The lotus tile he'd bought weeks ago seemed to burn in his pocket.

He stayed planted on his stool. _Here's your chance,_ his mind hissed, _you can't wait it out forever. You've done what you could these last two years, but the Fire Nation's pushing back and the Avatar has been less than helpful. Reconnect, try again, maybe they'll forgive you, maybe they won't, but you have nothing left to lose._

 _Nothing left to lose._ He mused.

But, no. His fate, as it turned out to be, was to fail, act as a middleman and then leave the earth to rumble and the ice to flame. Whatever happened would happen without him. It had been his choice to leave the narrative. Entering it again would not be his decision.

 _You might find Uncle again._ It whispered. His hand ghosted itself over his pocket, until a red bolt of anger shot through his veins. _You don't deserve the chance._

He burst back into the street, untied his ostrich-horse and paced through the marketplace until his nerves gentled. Noon had long since fallen by then. The crowds grew as the heat gathered itself up and moved along to find another village to fry. Zuko didn't need the extra eyes on him, so he slid into the first alleyway he could find.

Chalk graffiti plastered the walls, all fresh and vibrant, as the guards cleaned them off too soon for any to grow old. The usual array spread across the alley: Earth Kingdom symbols, faction emblems, call to arms and battle cries, various renderings of the Avatar and some unflattering caricatures of various Fire Nation leaders. A little higher up, he even noticed the image of the Blue Spirit. It seemed to cut into the stone.

In his bag, the mask seemed to grow heavier. Where would he be off to tonight? The command center he'd seen that morning, maybe burn down the storage? Or just some common havoc, facing off the night patrols?

Another part of his mind strayed. Perhaps this will be the night he gets caught, perhaps tonight was the night the world would throw him to the ground and say "You have done enough. You cannot be forgiven, but you have done enough."

He would usually give himself a slap on the wrist for thinking like that, but tonight he can't find the energy. The blue grin on the wall beckoned him forward. Would this be his legacy? Did fate toss him around and keep him alive that day for _this_? And in the end, had he done enough?

 _No._ He could answer that last one himself. A few months of stirring up chaos could never outweigh a lifetime of failure and betrayal.

The streets had died down, and silence hummed in his ears. Before he headed out into the night, he took one last glance at the impressions wall. Something caught his eye.

On either side of mask was the green-gold sun of the rebellion and the cold, curling black elemental symbol of fire. Zuko tensed. He backed himself against the wall and unsheathed his dao. The Blue Spirit stared down at him, caught in a laugh, as if it enjoyed Zuko being on the other side of the mask for once.

And then the earth trembled at his feet and spit out a man cloaked in proud green garb and a messenger's badge. He took one glance at him, pressed his lips into a thin line and dropped a leather bound scroll at his feet. Then without a word, he left.

Zuko read the scroll underneath the growing twilight and the blue mask's grin. The wind whistled gentle carols through that quiet night as he huddled in that alleyway, waiting for the sun to rise, and he wondered if life would ever be that quiet again.

* * *

He rode into Tu Zin atop an ostrich-horse with the sun beating across his back and a crosswind at his feet. In the evening light, he could make out two silhouettes lazing around on a broken down porch.

He unmounted from his steed, and Toph and the Avatar stood to meet him. She wore her dented armor as always, one arm wrapped in a sling. Stood besides her, the Avatar wore plain clothes of gray and brown, a pack slung across his shoulder and a walking stick in one hand.

"I guess you got my message." She smiled, not happy to see him, just amused at the situation as a whole.

He eyed her under his broad brimmed hat. There were a hundred things to say to her, half of them apologies, but he could see in her eyes that it would be best if this meeting came and went without becoming personal. He cast his eyes aside. "Why me?"

She gave a snort. "Because it's time for Aang over here to get out of that hellhole."

A beat skipped in his heart. "...Is the underground-"

"That's my problem to worry about. Yours is right here." She pushed the boy forward, who nodded to him stiffly. He looked gaunt and pale, as if he'd spent the last few weeks in a jail cell.

"Now I say that," Toph eyed him again, unsettlingly, "but I better see your head on a stick before I see this kid get caught."

A rogue smile broke on his lips. "I think I'd cut it off myself if it came to it."

Toph's smirk twitched. _What a beautiful mess we're in_ , it seemed to say. _Let's smile through it, lest we'd break apart._

They might have stood like that forever, lost in the meaningless shambles that they'd created and fate had left them in, had it not been for the last airbender standing between them.

He turned back to Toph, who snapped out of the stupor and looked back at him with a gentler, truer smile. He fiddled with the ostrich-horse's reins as the two exchanged words and gave their last goodbyes. Then Toph unhinged the jaw of the earth and disappeared down its throat, leaving the two to their own devices.

He faced the Avatar and held out his hand. "Zuko."

The boy took his hand, and shook. "Aang."

"We've met." He blanked.

"Yeah." The boy doesn't meet his eyes. "I've heard a lot."

A shock ran through his system. Under his calm, a river of memories suddenly burst through his body, sapping his strength and sending aches through his spine. The past barreled in front of his eyes; burning swaths and battlefields riddled with the fallen, great landmarks toppling and flags being raised, long dead smiles and warm fires.

He swallowed hard. "There's a lot to hear."

* * *

 _AN: I realize the correct idiom would be Dark (Ostrich)Horse but like? It doesn't ring with me, and I'm not going to use the same joke twice. This chapter's a little lacking, but it is just a bridging chapter between the behemoth that was Whistling in the Dark and the soon to come, much awaited, not yet titled Zuko Backstory chapter._

 _And if you guys ever needed a song to listen besides this story, may I recommend 'Things we Lost in the Fire' by Bastille? Perhaps 'Lost on You' by LP? Lots of losing stuff in this story, yes. 'Some Nights' by F.U.N if you want to go with more of a rebellion mood. Hell, throw any songs you want at me and I'll give them a listen!_


	11. Water Under the Bridge

A moonless night stared down at the humming little colony. Torchlight and shop windows cast false daylight into the streets, where a medley of personalities roamed. Tired laborers trudged their way home, brushing past bright-eyed peddlers, panhandlers asking for change, pickpockets and a dozing Fire Nation guard. A one legged bard sat over a frayed tarp, tuning his pipa. Across from there, the Avatar tended to a worn ostrich horse as he waited for his firebending teacher to finish bartering with a hoggish merchant.

" _The night is long…_ " The bard sang, before turning back to the tuning pegs, evidently displeased.

Quite fond of music, the Avatar turned to the troubadour as he started the gentle tune again.

"A song for when the guards are away," he heard him say. "A song while we wait."

The ballad rang through the night air with a fiery cold. The airbender found himself mute, hanging onto every verse with a childish wonder. At the trading post, the firebender turned still, before paying whatever price the merchant demanded and ambling out the door.

The Avatar asked from a thought, far, far away. "What happened?"

He studied the bard, blank faced. "What? They never told you?"

"Well, to be fair," he muttered, "there were a lot of things even they didn't know."

The firebender gave a slow nod. When they'd made their way out of the town, he sighed. "It's a long story."

The bard's song chased them as they walked, and the firebender couldn't help but remember.

* * *

 _The prince of flame was sentenced to sail,  
_ _Burned and scarred, by his father's fire,  
_ _Searching for ghosts, he was doomed to fail,  
_ _And so turned his back on his land and sire._

* * *

The sea ravens croaked and the clouds hung low and dark like a mourner's veil. He chose to focus on that, rather than the iron steamer that bobbed on the shore, or the vast plains marching at his back, or the ostrich-horse at his side bearing their meager possessions.

Tunnel visioned by choice. He expected that the rest of his life would go on the same.

He blinked himself back into focus for a moment. A few yards away, Uncle, in his inconspicuous Earth Kingdom clothes, gave a hearty laugh at something Lieutenant Jee and some other crew members had said.

Saying their goodbyes, he guessed. They'd tell him again how much of an honor it'd been to serve the great Dragon of the West, maybe ask a final time if he was really sure about letting them leave and then Uncle would answer with a thank you, and say that he'd follow his nephew to the ends of the globe. Then the crew would nod and shake his hand, then row their little skiff back to the ship where they'd sail off into the gray horizon, and he'd never see them again.

Instead, they laughed once more, and Jee broke off from the group and met his eye. Zuko tried to gather some sense of mind as the man marched up the shore to meet him.

"Prince Zuko! The crew and I wanted to wish you well." His expression turned a mark more dour. "Searching sub-rosa won't be easy."

"No. But it would be unfair to keep you from home any longer."

"It's been unfair to keep _you_ away from home so long. You shouldn't have had to grow up at sea chasing a fool's-"

Jee bit off his sentence and huffed, but the fire calmed from his features. From his belt, he brought up a familiar black sheath.

"You left this in your room." He studied the blade. "' _Never give up without a fight.'_ "

Zuko took the knife from his outstretched hand without meeting his eyes. "Thank you. I must have forgotten it."

He didn't admit that he couldn't stand to look at the thing, not while his ship was pulling away from harbor like a soiled white flag waving in the wind. _I've given up,_ it seemed to say, _I've fought_ , _but now I'm giving up._

Jee shook his head and stared up at the mourning sky.

"6 years at sea." He muttered. "You've fought hard, Zuko, but… you're not here to search for the Avatar, are you?"

His dust-colored wear hung heavily, as if it wanted to kiss the earth it epitomized. He remembered the young days of his quest, when he'd sworn time and time again that he'd search the earth for the rest of his life if he had to, that it was his _destiny_ to find the Avatar.

He remembered stormy nights at sea. He remembered the sight of smoke so thick over the Earth Kingdom that the sky was black and ashes fell down like rain. He remember when news came that Azula had been crowned Firelord. And then destiny seemed to burn at sea.

"No." He said. "It's nothing but a ghost, Jee, we all know that. He doesn't want me back. I couldn't stay a kid forever."

The clouds thundered the message of oncoming rain. Jee stood as grim as the sky. The crew shouted from the shore that they would be leaving soon and Zuko raised his head and tried to focus one last time because his attention is the least he can offer. And Jee met his eyes, brought a fist and a palm to his chest, and bowed.

"It has been an honor to serve you, Prince Zuko. And by Agni's will." A fire burned in his eyes. "Find another way home."

The men shook his hand, rowed their little skiff back to the ship and sailed off into the gray horizon.

They walked, he, Uncle and a downtrodden ostrich-horse, across yawning plains, Zuko keeping his eyes on nothing but the path at his feet. And as he walked, he found a new fire stirring in some long empty pit within him, but this time the blinding smoke and naive flames were dead, leaving nothing left but bitter, red embers.

* * *

 _The night is long when the fire has died,  
_ _The night is long when there's smoke in your eyes,  
_ _Come bury your dreams in the ash tonight,  
_ _Till the wind fans the spark to a flame._

* * *

"Gaoling's been taken!" The man thundered past him on his ostrich-horse, a line of dust trailing behind them.

His words passed over his head for a moment, as most of everything did, but once they processed he reined his own ostrich-horse so suddenly the wagon they were pulling pitched forward and almost threw him to the ground.

Behind him, the crier had reached the village green, where all conversation had gone silent. The place itself was nothing special, just a flat plot of untilled dirt with a few young peach trees and a rickety gazebo, but it was the only communal point for miles. Fields of crops stretched out to the horizon, dotted by tired, little shacks and laced with narrow, winding paths. Days were long, nights were lonely and meeting up in that plot of dirt was the only way to help it.

"Gaoling's been taken!" The man cried again.

"That's impossible."

"Get a hold of yourself!"

"How?" They said, all at once.

"They stormed the governor's hall. They're barricading the city. Anyone with half a mind's gone into hiding!" The messenger said, hysterical.

One of the men gripped his shoulders and said again. "Get a hold of yourself."

"Gaoling's only a day's walk from here. It's only a matter of time." He wailed.

"We need to run."

"We need to hide!" Another says.

"Run where? They've taken Ba Sing Se, Omashu, now Gaoling."

"South to the plains?"

"It's only a matter of time. We have to fight."

The wailing swelled again. He started to wheel his cart as casually as he could around, hoping to slip past while they argued and howled.

"You, Lee!" Someone called out to him. "You're a learned man, Lee, you've been places. What do you make of this?"

The group was quiet for him. What did he think of all this? He tried his best not to think much at all.

A part of him cried out in misery, in anger, for himself, for his uncle, for the people of the Earth Kingdom that had been nothing but amiable to him. The Fire Nation had no right to steal this last shred of peace from them. But those were hollow flames, and Zuko had too much experience in how to quell them. Fire led to ash. Life led to death. Hope led to ruin.

In the distance, a line of smoke rose from the horizon.

"Only a matter of time." He said. " It'll always be just a matter of time."

Then he whipped up his reins and rode home, where Uncle sat on the porch and gave him a questioning look, wondering why he was back so early.

"Gaoling's been taken." He said simply.

Then he disappeared inside, threw his hat onto the table, and went early to bed.

* * *

 _The phoenix rose and scorched the Earth,  
_ _Turned to ash all in his way,  
_ _But a dragon did the phoenix birth;  
_ _From a son that he'd once thrown away._

* * *

" _Zuko, wake up!"_

He knows it's a dream.

"You will fight for your honor."

His father's voice, the eyes of the crowd, the cold tile under his palms; it's all smoke and mirrors. If only that meant anything. This moment created him and destroyed him, and redefines him every day, and perhaps dreams are nothing more than smoke but memory beats down as real and constant as Agni's light.

" _Get up, Zuko!"_

"I meant you no disrespect." He hears himself say, weak and detached and familiar, like an echo. "I am your loyal son."

He sees himself kneel, and feels the tears start to streak down his cheeks. He shakes his head bitterly. Loyalty meant nothing to Ozai, he knows that now. He remembers sailing past charred husks of buildings, of _bodies,_ after the day of the comet. Mercy meant even less.

The shadowy figure makes another step towards him, and a flame burst in his hand.

"Rise and _fight_ , Prince Zuko!"

His eyes chase the fire, the fire that would streak across his face forever, the fire that would sentence him to prison at sea, the fire that would send him to an early grave in a land a thousand miles from home.

 _Rise and fight,_ he hears again. It makes his hands tremble and the dream sharpen, and it would be lying if he said that he'd never imagined running his sword through the man's neck at least once in his life.

His image still kneels, and he hates it more than even the shadow and the flame.

And he opens his mouth to say _I will not fight you,_ but he will not let the words pass. He has spent too long kneeling. He has spent enough time waiting for mercy.

In the distance, a line of smoke rose from the horizon.

The mirrors crack and the smoke thickens. The stands fill with red flames that rise like columns and lap at the dais like waves, and even his younger self turns to ash and is blown away, until it is just him and his father's shadow. White fire wreaths his arms while a red flame dances in Ozai's palm.

 _Rise and fight, Prince Zuko._ He makes a step forward, the heat of the flames no worse than the anger in his veins. He watches the fire in his father's hand, and raises an arm to match.

"I'm only following orders." He closes the distance between them.

Then the flames wash across the stage, and everything turns dark.

"Wake up, Prince Zuko!"

He bolts upright in his bed, sweating hard, hands clutching at his mite-eaten sheets. Despite it all, it feels as if the world had come into sharper focus, as if the grain in his vision had been smoothed out. In the darkness, he hears the familiar roaring of fire.

"The soldiers are taking the field." Uncle's wrinkled hands are iron on his shoulders. "They're trying to fight back. We must leave while it's still in chaos."

Seldom is Uncle the one who's hysterical and Zuko the one composed, but tables tend to turn on nothing more than a whim. On the wisp of a dream.

He doesn't run that night, not away, anyhow. He grabs a sword, lights a flame and flies into battle to settle a score. He doesn't run to free the Earth Kingdom or to reclaim a throne or to wreak justice for all the wrong, but for now those all go in the same direction.

Firebender fighting under an earthen flag, a prince fighting against his people, the banished leading the people to topple the crown; there's a sort of silent poetry in it. And perhaps even then, after the battle had died and he sat under a young peach tree in the common green as the villagers debated what comes next, he already knew that he was writing his own elegy.

* * *

 _The dragon lead the earth to quake,  
_ _Filled the sky with ships of steam,  
_ _Underneath, the tunnels snaked,  
_ _And at sea, the golden suns gleamed._

* * *

Seven years come and go. The peach trees blossom. Rebellion flares. Zuko heads a war council.

"You're being too ambitious." One general rumbles. "Proceed with caution: history will not give you mercy."

"Neither will Ozai." He answers. The man's expression goes to brick.

"And what happens if it goes wrong? What's our back-up plan? How do we rebound from there?"

"If it all goes to hell," he says. "We don't need to worry about coming back."

Sokka stares at him blankly, Katara furrows her brows as if trying to have faith in his words and Toph had gone silent ever since he'd told her that she would be the one who stayed behind.

Even now, he still stands alone.

The order had been selfish, perhaps. Reckless, absolutely. But the end was so close that it was as if he had his blade at Ozai's neck, and there was no such things at going back.

Zuko adjourns the meeting, and that is poetry enough.

* * *

 _The night is long when the fire has died,  
_ _The night is long when there's smoke in your eyes,  
_ _Come bury your dreams in the ash tonight,  
_ _Till the wind fans the spark to a flame._

* * *

 _Algor Pass. They say it's never the same journey twice._

12 years ago. The memory of his Uncle's words feels as if it had come from a different lifetime. Spirits, where had all the time gone?

 _Flotsam, crags, glaciers, ice floes; they all bob along the surface ready to sink the greatest ships. Always changing. One ship can sail in and be skimming the Northern Water Tribe in just hours. Another ship may take entire weeks. Some never come out._

He ducks into an alcove as another round of arrows or fire or buckshot or who knows what - the sky is a hellstorm - rains from the cliffsides of the Royal Plaza. In those scarce seconds, the memory brings something from his pocket. It's a map, inked in black with ill-defined coasts and smudged lines

 _A perfect place for the Avatar to be hiding then._

 _Perhaps. But be wary of following hope here. Sail only to find an exit without heeding the sea, and you'll find yourself at the bottom of the ocean. Only sail without knowing where you wish to be, and you're sure to be just another piece of wreckage._

Zuko has sailed wrong.

 _Those are the rules of the pass. Follow them, and you will be beyond reach._

He draws the path, north through Algor, in ash.

Zuko learns that when everything has fallen through and plans have shattered like glass, Sokka listens to anything with a sense of reason. He slips the map into his palm and tells him to get all he can and _leave._ He doesn't look back to see if Zuko is running to shore as well.

He thanks the spirits for that. There's not much left to be done when he picks up a helmet from the ground and raises his sword for the final stanza, but he is still thankful. Sending to safety the few people he might have grown to love was one right turn in a voyage doomed to run aground.

* * *

 _The walls wouldn't fall, the dragon turned to the west,  
_ _Sailed through the fire, to set the earth free,  
_ _But blue flames guarded the phoenix nest,  
_ _And the dragon drowned at sea._

* * *

He wished they could cut his head off without having to take off his helmet, but that's asking for too much.

When the battle's over, they drag the survivors in a row, kneeling and heads lowered. When he hears the crackle of her voice, he wishes for it all over again.

They go down the row, ripping off helmets, disarming them, tying their hands behind their backs for easy transport to prison or execution or who knows where for him.

Zuko's numb to his fate now, but why did it have to come so unbearably slow?

When the guard tears off his helmet, for one wondrous second, no one notices. Then he stumbles back, the man behind him leaves the ropes slack around his hands and Azula's eyes drip with malice.

She pulls a sword from a guard's sheath and swings it back to take his head. His allies howl.

Her blade stops short, but he can't hide the wince. Her laughter grates at his ears like nails on stone.

"Well, isn't this a surprise." She hisses. "It's always so enjoyable when family comes to visit."

She orders the guards to hoist him to his feet, where he has no choice but to look at her. Azula eyes have always been unsettling, but now they glowed too bright in her face, as if the power of Sozin's comet had stayed imbued in them after all these years. Her grin glared at him crudely.

"My, haven't we grown Zuzu? Maybe that pretty face of yours has, but it seems that head of yours has stagnated."

There were no words to answer her. There was nothing left for him to preserve.

She stepped closer. "You always used to throw tantrums. That's what got you banished in the first place, wasn't it? That temper of yours in the war council? I really thought you would've outgrown that by now, Zuzu. But it looks like I miscalculated."

Azula walked past him towards the shore. The guards turned him to face her.

"Your tantrums just got bigger. More fatal. More reckless. And look at how many people got caught in the crossfire."

He had been focusing on Azula's back, on the crown atop her head, but then she waved her arm across the horizon and he foolishly glanced away. Bodies littered the ground like ash heaps, no colors to tell them apart, earthen barricades stood in vain, already crumbling, and at sea he spotted the blue sails of Water Tribe ships pulling away from harbor. Iron steamers trailed them like vultures. In the moment before he looked away, he saw the navy cloth painted red with fire.

Zuko may be numb to death, but shame burned through him like flames on blue sails.

"Look at it, Zuko. You've turned against your own people. You've lead your army to their deaths."

She picks a torn banner from the ground.

"And after all of that, did you ever find that honor of yours? Because from what I see, you still have none."

The gold and green emblem burns in her hands. She gives him a pitying smile.

"Guards, prepare a ship to Ba Sing Se for my dear brother. I'm sure our king would love to see him again."

He watches blue sails catch fire as he was dragged towards the shore, with greaves grating against the earth and Azula's words pulsing through him worse than lightning.

* * *

 _The night is long when the fire has died,  
_ _The night is long when there's smoke in your eyes,  
_ _Come bury your dreams in the ash tonight,  
_ _Till the wind fans the spark to a flame._

* * *

He doesn't know _why._

Perhaps it was the spirit's will. Fate. Destiny. All those meaningless words. Or perhaps it was some animalistic instinct of self preservation, a bodily will to live that hadn't burned with the rest of him. Maybe the thought of death by his father's hands was so abhorrent that it had struck a chord in his soul that his mind had been too numb to realize. Maybe.

He vaguely knows _how._ Melting locks, breathing flames, fires blazing and dying so easily they might have been fireflies dancing. Coal dust easily lit. Blasting jelly in the cargo hold. The cold sea stealing his breath.

He shouldn't have been able to, he wished he hadn't been able to, but he's retching saltwater out of his lungs on a shore who knows where while the burning carcass of a ship glows like a dying candle in the distance.

Zuko is free. He's alive. And he waits for the kiss of death, but sand and brine is all that meets his lips.

He staggers to his knees, arms clawing at his chest until they find it.

Somehow, it had made it through. After being left on a ship he'd never see again, after countless battles, after facing Azula and her faceless guards; here it was, mocking him still. The knife glinted in the moonlight.

 _Never give up without a fight._

He has fought, over and over and over. Time and energy, life and limb, love and peace; he's given it all up in a heartbeat.

And now he's here with _nothing._

He stares at the knife in his hands.

 _Never give up without a fight. Never give up without a fight. Without a fight. Fight. Fight. Rise and fight, Prince Zuko._

No one can say he never fought. The sight of fiery sails is burned in his mind as testament.

But all the straws he's every grasped at have broken and now they're littered at his feet ready to burn. And everything he's ever done is sinking beneath the waves like the waning candle on the horizon.

And what is there left to do when every card you play spells out failure?

And what is there left to do when you've tossed everything you might have loved into your pyre, and you're the only one who doesn't burn?

And what is there left to do when the fight is done?

Except give up? Except hobble to your feet and wander the shore until you die, or find a little port town where you call yourself Lee, who works at the teashop and feeds the turtleducks in the morning, and pretend that this is all you've ever been?

It is cold daybreak, the fires have stopped burning, and Zuko gives up.

* * *

 **AN: And that's where the title's from. Only made you wait eleven chapters. Anyway, satisfied with how this chapter went, could have been better in some places but I really want to move on. The past is done for the most part, just the future left to care about.**

 **The end is nigh. Not that nigh, maybe a third away, but still nigh. I don't plan on this story to go above 20 chapters.**

 **Also, I'm making a forum soon, mainly to discuss another story, a Candle to the Dragon, but there'll be bits about this too. If you've got anything to say about that story, this story, or you want to know where I disappear to in between these chapters, pop on over, I'll have the link on my profile eventually I presume.**

 **Thanks for sticking around this angstfest and see you next chapter.**


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